140 


TRANSFORMED 


BY 


FAYE    HUNTINGTON 


NEW  YORK 
THOMAS   Y.   CROWELL  &    CO. 


COPYRIGHT,  i8S6, 
BY   THOMAS   Y.  CROWELL  &   CO. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  1 5 

CHAPTER  II 14 

CHAPTER  III 22 

CHAPTER  IV 32 

CHAPTER  V. 43 

CHAPTER  VL .62 

CHAPTER  VII 74 

CHAPTER  VIIL 8; 

CHAPTER   IX 108 

CHAPTER  X. 123 

CHAPTER  XL 137 

CHAPTER  XII 152 

CHAPTER  XIII 170 

CHAPTER   XIV 184 

CHAPTER  XV 200 

CHAPTER  XVL 218 

CHAPTER  XVII 232 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 245 

CHAPTER  XIX 265 

CHAPTER  XX. 283 

CHAPTER  XXL 297 

CHAPTER   XXII 314 


CHAPTER   XXIIL 


3*4 


2061921 


TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  I  went  by  the  field  of  the  slothful ;  .  .  .  and,  lo,  it  was  all  growh 
over  with  thorns,  and  nettles  had  covered  the  face  thereof,  and  the 
stone  wall  thereof  was  broken  down." 

THEY  called  him  "Old  Barney."  Indeed,  it 
had  been  so  long  since  he  had  heard  himself 
called  any  thing  else,  that  he  had  almost  forgot- 
ten that  this  was  not  his  real  name.  As  for 
his  wife,  she  was  not  called  by  even  so  respect- 
able a  name  as  "  Mrs.  Barney  : "  to  most  peo- 
ple she  was  "  Old  Moll."  And  yet  neither  of 
them  was  old ;  they  had  not  seen  forty  years 
come  and  go.  Indolence,  liquor,  and  tobacco 
had  dragged  them  so  low  in  the  social  scale, 
that  the  appellation  old  had  been  attached  to 
them  rather  as  a  term  of  contempt  than  of  de- 

5 


6  TRANSFORMED. 

scription.  Had  any  citizen  of  Waltham  been 
asked,  who  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  town- 
ship was  the  lowest  in  poverty  and  degradation, 
the  unhesitating  reply  would  have  been,  "the 
Barneys." 

Barney  himself  was  tall  and  angular,  with 
legs  and  arms  apparently  too  long  to  be  dis- 
posed of  conveniently ;  he  was  habitually  un- 
shaven and  unkept.  He  had  the  appearance  of 
great  physical  strength ;  but  he  was  so  stupefied 
with  poor  tobacco,  and  poorer  whiskey,  as  to 
be  incapable  of  exertion.  When  he  walked,  he 
seemed  scarcely  able  to  drag  his  ungainly  body 
along ;  and  often  the  rude  boys  of  the  neighbor- 
hood would  call  out,  "  Say/  which  way  are  you 
going,  anyway  ? " 

Barney  was  not  a  great  conversationalist ;  peo- 
ple were  wont  to  say  that  he  was  too  lazy  to  open 
and  shut  his  mouth  for  the  formation  of  words. 
And  when  he  did  speak,  it  was  in  a  drawling 
tone ;  indeed,  there  was  a  saying  that  old  Bar- 
ney never  framed  his  reply  to  any  question  un- 
til the  next  day  after  the  inquiry  had  been 
made.  As  for  work,  there  were  few  who  had 


TRANSFORMED.  7 

any  patience  with  his  "shiftlessness,"  and,  con- 
sequently, the  avenues  of  employment  open  to 
him  were  not  very  broad.  * 

Mrs.  Barney  was  a  slight,  wiry  woman  of 
medium  height,  with  long  dark  hair  tightly 
twisted  into  a  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head 
without  regard  to  smoothness ;  her  complexion 
was  dingy  from  exposure  and  greasiness.  Her 
dark  eyes  had  a  restless  expression,  and  she 
had  a  habit  of  moving  her  fingers  nervously 
when  she  talked.  By  nature  she  was  more 
active  and  energetic  than  her  husband,  but  in 
the  discouragements  of  poverty  she  had  grown 
indolent  and  careless. 

A  little  north  of  the  Waltham  district  was, 
fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  a  large  tract  of  land 
known  as  "the  swamp;"  and  there,  on  a  little 
clearing,  lived  the  Barneys.  The  hovel  in 
which  they  existed  was  built  partly  of  logs  and 
partly  of  slabs.  It  had  no  floor,  and  no  chim 
ney ;  there  had  been  a  sort  of  a  floor  made  ot 
slabs  laid  with  the  flat  side  up,  but  these,  having 
rested  upon  the  damp  ground,  had  long  since 
rotted  away.  There  had  been  three  windows ; 


8  TRANSFORMED. 

but  one  of  these  was  boarded  up,  while  the  oth- 
ers had  many  broken  panes,  their  places  being 
variously  supplied  with  papers,  rags,  and  bits 
of  boards.  The  roof  was  broken  and  leaky ; 
the  door  sagged  on  its  hinges ;  and  the  stove, 
with  its  pipe  projecting  through  one  of  the 
broken  windows,  smoked.  There  had  originally 
been  but  one  room  :  but  some  enterprising  ten- 
ant (certainly  not  Barney)  had  conceived  the 
idea  of  a  bedroom,  and  in  pursuance  of  this 
happy  thought  had  partitioned  off  one  corner, 
leaving  the  main  room  an  "  L  "  shape  ;  then  as 
a  further  convenience  two  or  three  shelves,  like 
the  partition  made  of  slabs,  had  been  fastened 
to  the  wall  across  the  end  of  the  "  L."  As  for 
furniture,  there  was  absolutely  nothing  which 
hinted  of  comfort  or  even  decency:  of  filth  there 
was  an  abundance.  And  there  was  something 
else  of  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  lack,  and 
that  was  children,  —  half  a  dozen  tow-headed, 
bare-footed,  and  bare-legged  boys  and  girls,  in 
years  from  one  to  twelve.  How  the  miser- 
able beings  who  composed  the  Barney  family 
contrived  to  live,  was  an  unexplained  mystery. 


TRANSFORMED.  g 

The  head  of  the  family  would  sometimes  per- 
form a  day's  labor  for  the  neighboring  farmers, 
while  his  wife  now  and  then  went  out  for  a  day's 
washing  or  scrubbing ;  but  the  exertion  was  quite 
too  severe  to  be  often  indulged  in.  Barney  had 
been  a  soldier,  and  had  been  slightly  wounded, 
—  a  fact  which  he  was  assiduous  in  keeping  to 
the  front,  and  which  afforded  him  an  excuse  for 
laziness,  though  his  wound  was  not  of  a  nature 
to  disable  him.  However,  he  had  a  pension, 
which  kept  them  from  starvation,  and  furnished 
the  supplies  of  liquor  and  tobacco  which  both 
he  and  his  wife  considered  among  the  neces- 
saries of  life. 

It  was  a  raw  November  morning.  As  usual, 
the  family  slept  late :  as  a  matter  of  economy  in 
wood  and  lights,  they  were  accustomed  to  spend 
as  much  time  as  possible  among  the  rags  which 
constituted  their  sleeping  accommodations ;  these 
could  not  be  called  beds.  As  a  rule,  they  break- 
fasted upon  a  sort  of  griddle-cake  made  of  what 
is  known,  in  some  sections  at  least,  as  "mid- 
dlings,"—  a  coarse  sort  of  wheat-flour  which 
forms,  when  wet  with  water,  a  sticky  dough. 


10  TRANSFORMED.    . 

As  they  had  no  griddle,  these  cakes  were  cooked 
in  a  primitive  manner.  A  little  salt  having 
been  added  to  the  dough,  it  was  ready  for  cook- 
ing. As  the  only  spoon  they  had  possessed  had 
now  been  missing  for  several  months,  a  piece 
of  a  shingle  had  been  whittled  into  a  paddle- 
shaped  utensil,  and  made  to  do  duty  as  a  spoon  ; 
with  this  the  dough  was  placed  upon  the  top  of 
the  stove  in  small  portions  ;  and  as  fortunately 
they  still  possessed  a  knife,  when  one  side  was 
cooked  the  cake  was  turned,  and  when  done 
through,  with  a  rude  sort  of  skill  it  was  tossed 
towards  the  child  whose  turn  it  was  to  receive 
the  delicate  morsel.  As  the  cake  was  invari- 
ably characterized  by  stickiness,  and  was  often 
too  hot  for  even  the  accustomed  fingers,  the 
rickety  table  and  dilapidated  chairs  received 
the  adhesive  article  while  cooling,  and  in  con- 
sequence were  well  plastered  with  dried  dough. 
But  this  Saturday  morning  the  "middlings"  had 
given  out ;  there  was  scarcely  sufficient  for  break- 
fast ;  and,  as  Barney  himself  had  taken  too  much 
whiskey  the  night  before,  he  was  too  stupidly 
sleepy  to  arouse  himself,  or  to  be  aroused, 


TRANSFORMED.  1 1 

to  go  to  the  mill  for  a  fresh  supply.  And,  in- 
deed, that  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  There  was 
no  money :  the  last  dollar  had  been  expended 
for  a  jug  of  whiskey,  and  it  was  yet  a  week  to  the 
time  when  the  pension-money  could  be  drawn. 

"  There's  no  use  o'  whimpering,"  said  Mrs. 
Barney ;  "  ye'll  jist  hev  ter  go  ter  Gray's,  and 
git  sum  injun-meal.  We've  got  to  hev  suthin' 
to  keep  off  starvation  till  yer  dad  gits  over  this 
spell.  Now  start  yersel' !  " 

"  I  sha'n't  go  a  step,  so  there  !  "  said  the  old- 
est boy,  to  whom  his  mother  had  spoken  ;  "  not 
if  ye  kills  me  !  Let  Pug  and  Nan  go." 

The  children  of  this  family  ought  to  be  in- 
troduced by  name.  The  oldest,  who  had  just 
delivered  himself  of  this  disrespectful  reply  to 
his  mother's  command,  was  twelve  years  old, 
and  answered  to  the  name  "  Reg :  "  his  mother, 
who  was  given  to  novel-reading,  had  named  her 
first-born  after  a  favorite  hero,  Reginald  Fitz- 
Henry,  though  all  excepting  the  first  syllable 
had  long  since  been  dropped.  Next  to  him  was 
a  lame  boy  :  a  little  touch  of  tenderness  having 
come  over  the  mother,  and  a  memory  of  some- 


1 2  TRANSFORMED. 

thing  she  had  heard  in  her  childhood  about  a 
boy  and  his  mother,  stealing  into  her  mind,  she 
had  called  her  boy  Samuel ;  and  yet  when  and 
where  that  mother  and  son  had  lived,  or  where 
the  story  was  told,  she  had  no  idea.  Then 
came  the  two  whom  Reg  had  called  Pug  and 
Nan  :  Pug's  real  name  was  John,  and  his  sister 
was  Annie.  Estelle's  name  had  been  selected 
from  another  novel.  But  when  that  other  blue- 
eyed  boy  opened  his  eyes  in  that  wretched 
hovel,  the  father  declared  that  he  would  have 
no  more  nonsense,  and  that  he  would  name  one 
boy  to  suit  himself,  and  so  he  called  him  Jehu  ; 
but  fortunately  no  one  else  ever  called  the  baby 
by  that  name  :  he  was  just  Huey  to  them  all. 

Though  Pug  and  Nan  were  scantily  clothed, 
and  the  weather  was  severe,  there  seemed  to 
be  no  help  for  it ;  Reg  would  not  go,  and  their 
only  hope  of  dinner  lay  in  getting  the  meal 
from  Mr.  Gray's.  It  was  a  long  walk,  more 
than  two  miles ;  and  even  a  small  bag  of  meal 
was  a  heavy  load  for  two  children  of  six  and 
seven  years  :  but  their  mother  said  coaxingly,  — 

"  Now  be  good  uns,  and  run  along.     Maybe's 


TRANSFORMED.  13 

you'll  git  some  goodies.  Yer  knows  Mis'  Gray 
allers  gins  yer  suthin'  nice.  Maybe's  it'll  be  a 
cooky,  or  who  knows  but  it'll  be  a  piece  o' 
mince-pie ! " 

Thus  urged  and  encouraged,  the  children  set 
off  upon  their  long  walk  over  the  frozen  ground, 
the  keen  wind  piercing  them  through  and 
through. 

You  do  not  like  my  picture  ?  Well,  it  is  not 
a  pleasing  one,  but  it  is  drawn  true  to  life. 
Alas,  there  are  still  such  homes  ! 


TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  Go  work  in  my  vineyard."  "  Work,  for  I  am  with  you,  saith 
the  Lord." 

Go  back  with  me  a  few  months.  It  was  a 
June  morning  ;  and  Marian  Kingsley,  with  half 
a  dozen  other  bright  young  girls,  stood  beneath 
an  evergreen  arch  upon  the  chapel  platform  in 
a  young  ladies'  seminary.  Interwoven  among 
the  evergreens,  wrought  in  white  flowers,  were 
the  words  of  the  class  motto,  "A  Work  Life." 
In  presenting  the  diplomas  which  the  young 
ladies  had  earned  by  four  or  five  years  of  devo- 
tion to  a  prescribed  course  of  study,  the  vener- 
able president,  referring  to  the  motto,  reminded 
those  white-robed  young  creatures  that  a  "  work- 
life"  meant  something  more  than  a  fluttering 
around  the  sweets  of  life,  extracting  honey  for 
their  own  regaling.  To  some  of  them,  a  work- 
life  might  mean  hand-toil ;  to  others,  work  for 


TRANSFORMED.  15 

heart  and  brain  :  to  all,  it  must  stand  for  sacri- 
fice, weariness,  and  self-abnegation. 

"  Much  those  frizzed  girls  know  of  the  mean- 
ing of  their  motto ! "  said  a  young  man,  whose 
handsome  face  wore  a  cynical  expression,  and 
whose  voice  had  in  it  a  sneering  tone.  "They 
look  like  it.  White  kid  gloves  indicate  just  the 
kind  of  work  they  expect  to  do.  They  will 
spend  two  or  three  years  angling  for  a  husband, 
and  call  that  work." 

"  Aren't  you  rather  severe  on  the  '  sweet  girl- 
graduates  '  ?  "  responded  his  friend,  a  gentleman 
some  years  his  senior.  "  I  am  sure  the  essays 
to  which  we  have  listened  evince  considerable 
character,  and  some  aspirations  and  desires  for 
usefulness." 

"Sentimentalism!  Mere  sentimentalism ! 
They  have  been  reading  poetry." 

"  But  you  read  poetry,"  said  the  other,  laugh- 
ing; adding,  "you  seem  to  expect  young  girls 
to  put  on  the  appearance  of  riper  years,  and  to 
present  to  us  the  thoughts  df  experience,  ex- 
pressed in  the  language  of  a  sober  philosopher." 

"That   is    exactly   what     I    am    protesting 


1 6  TRANSFORMED. 

against  :  the  sham  of  it  all.  Those  girls  dis- 
course upon  'the  dignity  of  labor,'  and  parade 
their  motto ;  but  I  tell  you  it  is  all  like  the  thing 
up  there,  made  of  flowers.  Their  sentiment  is 
as  perishable  as  the  daisies  which  they  have  so 
skilfully  inwrought  among  the  evergreens." 

"  See  here  !  "  said  his  companion,  turning 
sharply  upon  him,  "  Gray,  I  am  afraid  you  are 
already  caught.  Which  one  is  the  successful 
angler  ?  Is  it  your  brother's  pretty  ward,  or  is 
it  the  black-eyed  beauty  with  the  voluminous 
essay  on  'The  Harmony  of  Silence'?"  Then 
more  seriously  the  elder  man  said,  "I  think, 
Gray,  you  are  mistaken  in  your  estimate  of 
these  young  ladies ;  and,  as  you  will  probably 
have  the  opportunity,  it  may  be  a  matter  of  in- 
terest to  watch  and  see  how  at  least  one  of  the 
group  carries  out  the  idea  of  the  motto." 

That  evening,  at  the  reception  given  by  the 
president  of  the  college,  Dr.  Carlton  stood  near 
Miss  Kingsley,  so  near  that  he  could  not  avoid 
hearing  bits  of  what  seemed  like  senseless  chat- 
ter, as,  one  after  another,  the  curled,  perfumed, 
and  gloved  exquisites  came  up  to  pay  their 


TRA  NSFORMED.  1 7 

empty  compliments  to  the  members  of  the 
graduating  class  ;  and,  listening,  the  doctor  said 
to  himself,  "  I  wonder  if  Gray  was  right,  after 
all  ?  I  don't  believe  it  yet.'' 

Then,  as  an  opportunity  offered,  he  said, 
"  Miss  Kingsley,  may  an  old  man  ask  a  ques- 
tion ? " 

Dr.  Carlton  was  not  an  old  man,  and  if  Miss 
Kingsley  had  expressed  her  thought  she  would 
have  said  so.  But  she  replied  simply,  "Cer- 
tainly," though  her  face  may  have  expressed 
surprise  at  the  abrupt  request. 

"  I  was  interested  in  your  class-motto,"  said 
the  doctor,  "and  I  want  to  ask,  what  is  your 
idea  of  a  work-life  ? " 

"  My  idea  ?  Well,  '  Doe  the  nexte  thynge.' 
So  far  as  I  can  see  into  the  future,  it  will  be  to 
pack  my  trunk  to-night ;  then,  as  my  room-mate 
has  sprained  her  wrist,  I  shall  pack  for  her." 

"  But,  supposing  the  '  nexte  thynge '  proves 
to  be  a  disagreeable  task  ? "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  have  any  disagreeable 
tasks,"  she  said  brightly. 

The  doctor's  face  expressed   his  disappoint- 


1 8  TRANSFORMED. 

ment.  After  all,  she  was  going  to  shirk.  But 
she  saw  the  look,  and  said,  laughing,  "  You 
think  I  am  going  to  skip  the  next  thing  if  it 
proves  disagreeable.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  mean 
to  take  that  quality  out  of  it." 

"  Indeed !  I  wish  you  would  give  me  your 
secret." 

"  I  have  no  secret :  but,  when  I  was  a  little 
girl,  my  mother  told  me  that  if  I  grasped  a 
nettle  firmly,  and  quickly,  it  would  not  sting  ; 
and  I  have  found  that  her  rule  would  apply  to 
a  great  many  things.  Indeed,  I  suspect  that 
she  meant  it  so.  Anyway,  it  has  helped  me  a 
great  many  times  when  I  was  dreading  some 
duty.  Now,  of  course,  I  do  not  know  just  what 
my  work  is  to  be ;  but  I  expect  to  go  to  my 
guardian's  home,  and,  if  I  can,  I  would  like  to 
relieve  his  wife  by  assuming  some  of  her  cares. 
So,  if  you  should  happen  to  come  in  some  morn- 
ing, you  may  find  me  putting  up  the  winter's 
supply  of  fruit,  or  even  darning  the  children's 
stockings,  or  maybe  it  will  be  hearing  the  boys' 
Latin  lessons." 

"  But,  Miss  Kingsley,  these  things  are  trifles." 


TRANSFORMED.  19 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  interrupting, 
and  laughing  merrily,  "but  some  people  con- 
sider a  hole  in  their  stockings  no  trifle ;  still,  as 
you  say,  they  may  be  considered  as  compara- 
tively trifling  matters." 

"  I  was  about  to  remark,"  continued  the  doc- 
tor, smiling  at  her,  "that  it  would  seem  as 
though  all  these  years  of  study  would  have  given 
you  aspirations  for  something  higher  than  can- 
ning fruit  and  darnirtg  stockings.  Have  you 
no  looking-forward  to  a  career  ?  " 

Miss  Kingsley  looked  sharply  at  her  compan- 
ion, and  wondered  if  he  could  be  quizzing  her; 
but  he  met  her  gaze  with  a  grave  questioning, 
and  she  replied  earnestly,  "  Yes,  but  not  in  the 
way  which  I  presume  you  mean.  Louise  Ran- 
dall expects  to  go  out  to  China  as  a  missionary, 
but  I  have  no  such  expectation.  Still  I  do  not 
think  I  shall  be  exactly  an  idler." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that !  "  Dr.  Carlton 
responded  quickly.  "  But  this  work  you  have 
been  planning,  does  it  not  seem  narrow  ?  ex- 
cuse me,  but  is  it  not  belittling  ?  I  should  have 
supposed  that  you  would  seek  a  broader  field  to 


20  TRANSFORMED. 

give  scope  to  your  energies,  and  to  meet  the 
requirements  of  your  intellectual  capacities." 

"  Why,  Dr.  Carlton,  my  field  will  be  as  broad 
as  yours.  I  shall  have  the  whole  of  Waltham 
to  cultivate ;  and  if  I  do  not  find  my  mental 
powers  called  into  exercise  sufficiently  in  keep- 
ing the  run  of  things  throughout  the  township, 
I  can  have  recourse  to  the  puzzle  corner  of  the 
village  newspaper."  And  she  laughed  again. 
It  was  easy  for  Marian  Kingsley  to  laugh :  this 
was  her  escape-valve,  and  saved  her  many  a  fit 
of  despondency,  and  tided  her  over  many  a  dif- 
ficulty. She  resumed  more  soberly,  "  I  think 
all  the  girls  mean  to  live  by  our  motto  ;  but 
we  shall  not  have  the  same  sort  of  work. 
Annie  Maynard  will,  without  doubt,  be  a  writer  : 
she  has  decided  talent.  And  Fannie  Clark  is  a 
born  artist.  But,  while  I  am  aware  that  there 
are  many  broad  avenues  open  to  women,  I 
think  I  shall  find  my  work-life  leading  me  in 
the  narrower  paths  of  home-life." 

"  But  you  will  enter  society  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  presume  so." 

"  And  will  not  the  claims  of  society  interfere 
with  your  work-life,  as  you  call  it  ? " 


TRANSFORMED.  21 

"  I  think  not.  Indeed,  I  may  find  my  work 
in  society.  The  people  who  need  help  are 
not  all  among  the  poor,  or  among  the  stay- 
at-homes.  But  there  is  Miss  Randall.  She  can 
give  you  a  better  idea  of  the  meaning  of  our 
motto  than  I  can.  Shall  I  introduce  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  satisfied  with  your  explanation," 
replied  Dr.  Carlton  ;  saying  to  himself,  "  It  is  as 
I  thought.  Her  befrizzled  head  is  not  all  taken 
up  with  her  frizzes." 


22  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  Naked,  and  ye  clothed  me." 

THAT  November  morning,  Marian  Kingsley 
was  luxuriating  in  a  warm  wrapper,  an  easy- 
chair,  a  book,  and  the  open  fire,  which  last  she 
found  in  grandmother  Gray's  room.  Suddenly, 
without  a  warning  knock,  the  door  was  pushed 
open,  and  there  appeared  before  her  two  of  the 
most  remarkable-looking  human  beings  she  had 
ever  seen.  Had  her  home  been  in  a  city,  it  is 
possible  that  such  objects  might  have  been  a 
familiar  sight ;  but  in  country  neighborhoods 
such  abject  poverty  is  not  common.  Waltham 
is  a  country  town  ;  and,  Mr.  Gray's  handsome 
home  being  about  a  mile  from  the  centre  of  the 
town,  it  might  be  considered  as  a  country  home. 
Shocked  at  the  sight  which  met  her  astonished 
eyes,  Marian  ran  to  call  Mrs.  Gray,  who  came 


TRANSFORMED.  23 

at  once  in  answer  to  her  excited  summons. 
After  a  glance  at  the  visitors,  she  said  care- 
lessly, — 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  Barneys  !  You  have  not  seen 
them  before  ?  Well,  they  are  frequent  visitors. 
They  are  miserable  little  beggars.  I  don't  see 
how  they  found  their  way  in  here,  but  I  suppose 
they  are  looking  for  mother  ;  she  gives  them  a 
great  deal.  And  I  suppose  they  will  find  their 
way  into  places  where  they  ought  not  to  go, 
anyway." 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  with  them  ? "  ex- 
claimed Marian. 

"  Done  with  them  ?  Oh,  send  them  home,  I 
suppose :  that  is  what  we  generally  do  after 
they  have  made  known  their  errand.  — What  is 
it  ? "  she  asked,  turning  for  the  first  time  to  the 
children,  who  stood  shivering  before  the  grate. 

"  Some  meal,"  said  Pug. 

"  Well,  go  to  the  kitchen,  and  ask  Bridget  to 
give  you  some  ;  and  then  go  home." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Gray !  Are  you  going  to  send 
them  home  without  any  clothing  ?  " 

"They  came  without." 


24  TRANSFORMED. 

"  But  they  will  perish.  This  cold  day  !  See, 
the  little  girl  has  but  a  single  cotton  garment." 

"That  is  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Gray  quietly. 
"  They  are  no  worse  off  than  usual." 

"  But  it  is  inhuman  to  let  them  go  so.  I 
should  not  be  able  to  sleep  for  a  week,"  said  the 
excited  girl.  "  Have  you  not  some  old  clothes 
of  Fred's  and  Bertie's  for  them  ?  I  am  sure 
you  have." 

"  But,  my  child,  they  are  so  filthy  !  Think 
of  putting  my  children's  clothes  upon  such  vile 
bodies  as  these  little  outcasts." 

"  But  they  ought  to  be  washed,  and  dressed 
in  warm  clothing.  I  cannot  understand  how 
the  people  in  a  Christian  community  can  let 
children  remain  in  such  a  suffering  condition. 
Think  of  their  walking  over  the  frozen  ground 
barefooted  !  And  did  you  see  that  their  feet 
were  bleeding  ?  Have  the  people  around  here 
no  humanity  ? " 

Mrs.  Gray  was  used  to  Marian's  outbursts, 
and  she  did  not  mind  her  thrusts.  She  only 
smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  Now,    Marian,   don't   waste    your   pity    on 


TRANSFORMED.  2$ 

the  Barneys.  They  are  used  to  this  sort  of 
thing." 

"  Waste  pity  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  "but  I  think 
that  they  are  objects  of  pity.  They  must  have 
a  good  warm  bath,  and  some  clothing,  before 
they  go  out  of  this  house." 

"  A  bath,  indeed  !  And  who  will  give  them 
a  bath  ? " 

"  I  will,"  replied  Marian  with  flashing  eyes. 

"You!" 

"Yes,  I  will." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  give  them  a  bath,  I'll  find 
clothes  for  them,"  said  Mrs.  Gray  sceptically. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  responded  Marian. 

"Much  you  will  !  You'll  want  Bridget  to  do 
it ;  but  she  won't  soil  her  fingers  with  them,  any 
more  than  you  will.'' 

"  But  /will,  and  I  will  not  ask  Bridget.  You 
may  as  well  take  yourself  off  to  the  attic,  for 
we  shall  call  for  the  clothes.  Mind  you,  two 
full  suits  is  the  agreement,"  said  Marian  laugh- 
ing, though  her  tender  brown  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears  of  pity. 

"  You'll  not  need  them  :  you'll  be  sick  of  your 


26  TRANSFORMED. 

bargain  when  you  find  out  how  filthy  the  chil- 
dren really'  are.  And  I  tell  you,  Marian,  it  is 
of  no  use.  I  am  not  so  hard-hearted  as  you 
think.  The  Barneys  will  not  be  helped.  The 
people  about  them  have  done  for  them  until 
they  are  tired  of  it,  for  it  does  no  good.  They 
are  a  miserable  set." 

"But  the  children  will  freeze  to  death." 

"No,  they  are  used  to  it.  But  I  will  fulfil 
my  part  of  the  agreement  if  you  will  do  your 
part." 

Marian  found  the  children  in  the  kitchen, 
munching  the  doughnuts  with  which  Bridget 
had  supplied  them.  Telling  them  to  wait,  she 
went  to  her  room  to  change  her  handsome 
wrapper  for  a  dress  more  suited  to  the  task  she 
had  undertaken.  And  it  was  indeed  no  light 
undertaking.  Meeting  old  Mrs.  Gray  on  the 
way,  she  received  a  word  of  encouragement 
from  her. 

"  They  ought  to  be  clothed  up,"  she  said.  "  I 
know  Lewis  and  Clara  don't  believe  in  giving 
much  to  the  Barneys,  but  it  is  a  sin  to  let  the 
children  suffer  for  the  parents'  shiftlessness." 


TRANSFORMED.  27 

It  was  not  a  brief  operation,  that  of  cleans- 
ing those  filthy  bodies.  The  work  of  combing 
out  those  tow-like  and  tangled  locks  was  one  of 
time.  They  spent  the  most  of  the  morning  in 
the  bath-room  ;  but  at  last  the  children  were 
pronounced  clean,  and  ready  for  the  clothing 
which  Mrs.  Gray  had  provided  with  no  niggardly 
hand.  Indeed,  Marian  knew  that  if  she  was 
once  persuaded  to  do  any  thing,  it  would  be 
carried  out  in  all  the  details.  There  were  warm 
flannels,  with  long  stockings  and  strong  shoes  ; 
a  full  suit  of  Fred's,  outgrown  and  not  badly 
worn  ;  a  felt  skirt  and  a  flannel  dress  of  Ber- 
tie's ;  there  was  even  an  overcoat,  and  mittens, 
and  a  cloak  and  hood.  Nothing  seemed  to  be 
wanting  to  a  complete  outfit  for  both  children. 

"There,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  "I  have  done  this 
to  please  you,  and  against  my  judgment.  I  as- 
sure you  that  in  a  week  they  will  be  here  again, 
ragged  and  dirty.  They  never  keep  any  thing 
decent." 

"  Children,"  said  Marian,  "  I  want  you  to 
come  and  see  me  next  Saturday,  and  see  how 
clean  and  nice  you  can  keep  your  clothes,  and 


28  TRANSFORMED. 

how  clean  you  can  have  your  faces  and  hands. 
Do  you  understand  ?  " 

They  nodded,  and  went  away. 

"  They  make  me  think  of  little  pigs,"  said 
Marian,  laughing.  "They  seemed  to  enjoy 
their  bath,  but  they  expressed  their  pleasure 
only  by  little  grunts." 

"There,  you  have  it  exactly!  They  are  like 
pigs,  and  that  is  the  way  they  live.  I  can  tell 
you,  Marian,  if  you  could  see  the  hovel  they 
live  in,  you  would  understand  me  better." 

The  following  Saturday  the  children  appeared, 
according  to  promise  ;  they  had  evidently  made 
an  effort  to  be  decent,  and  Mrs.  Gray  acknowl- 
edged that  they  looked  much  better  than  she 
expected.  They  came  again  ;  and,  indeed,  they 
became  such  frequent  visitors,  that  it  was  a 
subject  of  laughing  remark  that  the  Barneys 
were  Marian's  proteges. 

Mrs.  Gray  senior  was  somewhat  of  an  invalid, 
and  Dr.  Carlton  was  a  frequent  visitor.  One 
day  he  remarked  to  Marian,  — 

"The  mother  of  your prot/gfc  is  going  to  die, 
I  am  afraid." 


TRANSFORMED.  29 

"  Why,  doctor  !  I  did  not  know  she  was  sick. 
The  children  did  say  that  '  mam  '  —  as  they  call 
her  —  was  sick;  but  Mrs.  Gray  remarked  that 
they  always  said  that,  and  that  she  did  not 
suppose  she  was  sicker  than  usual." 

"  But  she  is  very  sick  ;  I  have  little  hopes  of 
her,  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Who  takes  care  of  her  ?  "  asked  Marian. 

"  She  does  not  know  what  that  means,"  said 
the  doctor.  "And  that  is  the  trouble;  if  she 
could  have  a  little  attention,  she  might  pull 
through  this  sickness.  I  can  only  get  around 
there  once  a  day.  The  fact  is,  I  can't  do  her 
any  good ;  it  is  nursing  she  needs,  and  that  she 
can't  have." 

"Can't?     Why  not?" 

"  Who  is  to  nurse  her  ? " 

"  Christian  people." 

"Humph!  Christian  people  in  this  vicinity 
have  something  better  to  do." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Marian, 
shocked. 

The  doctor  laughed  as  he  replied,  "Why, 
there's  a  meeting  at  our  house  this  afternoon, 


30  TRANSFORMED. 

to  make  up  a  bundle,  or  box,  or  something,  to 
send  off  to  some  missionary  station  out  West. 
That  is  all  right,  if  only  they  will  set  a  box 
alongside  to  fill  for  the  Barneys  ;  I  am  sure 
they  are  heathenish  enough  to  call  for  mission- 
ary effort." 

"  Doctor,  what  is  wanted  over  there  ? " 

"  Every  thing." 

"  When  are  you  going  over  again  ? " 

"Now." 

"  May  I  go  with  you  ? " 

"  Marian  !  "  expostulated  Mrs.  Gray. 

"  Let  her  go.     I'll  take  care  of  her." 

"  Yes,  I  am  going.  I  want  to  see  for  myself 
what  all  this  is  about.  You  all  say  such  dread- 
ful things,  but  I  suppose  they  are  human." 

As  Marian  turned  to  leave  the  room  in  search 
of  her  wraps,  Mrs.  Gray  remarked  not  ill- 
naturedly,  "  I  do  not  suppose  you'll  listen  to 
advice,  but  I  would  suggest  that  you  wear 
something  that  you  will  be  willing  to  burn  or 
bury." 

"Why,  doctor,  is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  said 
Marian,  aghast. 


TRANSFORMED.  31 

"  Not  quite,  but  it  is  bad.  You  may  as  well 
wear  your  old  clothes  if  you  have  any." 

When,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour,  Dr. 
Carlton's  cutter  stopped  in  front  of  the  Barney 
hovel,  Marian  was  more  dismayed  than  she  al- 
lowed her  face  to  express.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  human  beings  lived  in  such  a  wretched 
place  as  that  ?  Why,  Mr.  Gray's  pig-sty  cer- 
tainly presented  a  more  inviting  aspect !  But 
then,  Mr.  Gray  was  a  fancy  farmer,  and  his  out- 
buildings were  kept  in  perfect  order. 

But  if  the  exterior  repelled,  what  did  she 
think  of  that  wretched  interior? 

"  Do  you  think  you  will  go  in  ?  "  asked  the 
doctor.  "  I  shall  not  stay  long,  if  you  have  a 
mind  to  sit  in  the  sleigh." 

"  Indeed  I  am  going  in,"  she  said  bravely. 
"I  have  come  to  see  the  sick  woman,  and  I 
hope  I  am  not  made  of  the  stuff  to  turn  back 
now." 


32  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me." 

MARIAN  shivered  slightly  as  she  followed  the 
doctor  into  the  wretched  place.  Her  little  ac- 
quaintances, John  and  Annie,  —  as  she  always 
called  them,  believing  that  the  children  would 
have  more  self-respect  if  they  could  drop  the 
disagreeable  nicknames,  —  greeted  her  shyly; 
and  Barney  himself  shambled  forward,  and 
made  a  pretence  of  offering  the  hospitalities 
of  the  place.  But  Marian's  eyes  were  intent 
upon  the  face  of  the  woman  whose  wild  eyes 
gleamed  out  at  her  through  the  doorway  of  the 
rough  bedroom.  As  the  doctor  advanced  to 
the  side  of  his  patient,  she  exclaimed,  — 

"Who  is  that  ?"  pointing  her  bony  finger  at 
Marian. 

The  doctor  beckoned  the  girl  forward.     "  This 


TRANSFORMED.  33 

is  a  friend  who  has  come  to  see  what  she  can 
do  for  you,"  he  said ;  while  Annie,  clinging  to 
Marian,  said,  — 

"  Mam  !  mam  !  it  is  the  beautiful  lady." 

Marian  stood  by  while  the  doctor  asked  a  few 
questions :  she  watched  his  face,  and  as  he 
turned  away  heard  him  mutter,  "  And  there's 
no  one  to  help,  and  no  one  to  care  !  " 

She  followed  him  into  the  outer  room. 

"Doctor,"  she  said,  "give  your  directions  for 
the  day  to  me  :  I  will  see  that  they  are  carried 
out." 

"  You ! " 

"  Yes ;  I  am  going  to  stay  and  take  care  of 
her  until  some  one  can  be  found  who  is  able  to 
do  better." 

"But,  Miss  Marian,  you  ought  not.  Mrs. 
Gray  will  never  consent." 

"  Yes,  she  will  ;  anyway,  I  am  here." 

"  But  I  promised  to  bring  you  back." 

Marian  thought  a  moment.  "That  was  a 
foolish  promise  to  make.  But  perhaps  it  will 
be-  better  to  go.  Give  her  the  medicine  you 
wish  her  to  have  now,  and  as  we  drive  back 


34  TRANSFORMED. 

you  can  tell  me  exactly  what  to  do ;  that  is, 
if  you  think  it  will  do  to  leave  her  so  long." 

The  doctor  smiled.  How  suddenly  it  had 
become  necessary  that  the  sick  woman  should 
have  a  constant  attendant !  He  mused  a  few 
seconds,  then  said, — 

"I  have  a  call  to  make,  a  mile  farther  on.  I 
will  leave  you  here  to  find  out  what  is  most 
needed,  for  I  think  they  are  nearly  starved ;  and 
then  we  can  decide  what  to  do,  as  we  drive 
back  to  Mr.  Gray's.  The  woman  is  compara- 
tively free  from  fever  now  ;  but  by  three  o'clock 
it  will  be  raging,  and  she  will  need  care  for  the 
rest  of  the  day.  It  is  a  sort  of  low  remittent 
fever  that  is  wasting  her  strength  away,  caused 
largely  by  want  of  proper  food." 

Within  an  hour  Marian  learned  several  things. 
One  was,  that  there  was  not  food  in  the  house 
for  a  single  meal ;  another,  that  the  house,  the 
bed  even  upon  which  the  woman  lay,  was  in- 
expressibly filthy.  As  she  drove  home  with 
Dr.  Carlton,  they  discussed  ways  and  means. 
Finally  Marian  said,  — 

"Unless  Mr.   Gray  positively  forbids,  —  and 


TRANSFORMED.  35 

he  will  not,  —  I  am  going  back.  I  shall  gather 
a  few  comforts  for  the  woman,  and  some  food 
for  the  children.  I  never  heard  of  such  desti- 
tution." 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  Marian  began  as  soon  as  she 
entered  the  house,  "can  I  have  Patrick  and  the 
long  sleigh  for  two  hours  ?  I  want  to  take 
some  things  up  to  the  Barneys." 

"You  may  as  well  say  'Yes 'at  once,"  said 
Dr.  Carlton ;  "for  I  shall  have  to  go  back  un- 
less you  do,  and  my  patients  will  have  to  suffer. 
But,  seriously,  something  ought  to  be  done : 
they  are  suffering." 

"All  right.  I'll  order  Patrick  to  be  at  the 
door  in  fifteen  minutes.  Will  that  be  soon 
enough  for  your  ladyship  ?  " 

"Well,  sir,  what  will  you  give  towards  my 
load  ? " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"Any  thing  they  can  eat,  wear,  or  sleep 
upon." 

"Very  well:  I'll  put  in  a  bushel  or  two  of 
potatoes,  some  flour,  and  meat." 

"  I    am    anxious    about    a  bed    for   the   sick 


36  TRANSFORMED. 

woman ;  can  you  let  Patrick  put  in  two  or  three 
bundles  of  clean  straw?  Or,  wait:  I'll  see  if 
auntie  Clara  will  not  let  me  have  a  straw  tick, 
and  I  know  there's  an  old  feather-bed  in  the 
attic  that  I  can  have.  I  have  some  sheets  of 
my  own  ;  and  somebody  will  give  the  comfort- 
ables, I  guess." 

"  It  looks  as  if  you  would  need  the  long 
sleigh,"  said  Mr.  Gray. 

"  Of  course  !  I  am  going  to  beg  my  way  over 
there." 

And  that  was  exactly  what  she  did.  Mrs. 
Gray  furnished  the  bed,  though  declaring  it 
was  of  no  use  to  try  to  do  any  thing  for  the 
Barneys.  At  Mrs.  Preston's  she  secured  a 
quilt  and  a  comfortable,  and  some  decent  un- 
derwear for  the  sick  woman,  and  Mr.  Preston 
gave  her  a  dollar.  Another  neighbor  added 
apples  and  butter;  another,  a  jug  of  milk;  and 
still  another,  a  package  of  children's  clothing, 
saying,  "  I  don't  feel  like  giving  old  Barney  any 
thing,  but  I  don't  want  the  children  to  surfer." 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  Marian  arrived  at 
the  little  hovel  with  her  supplies. 


TRANSFORMED.  37 

"  There  isn't  a  decent  place  inside  to  put  any 
thing,"  she  said  to  Patrick;  "so  I  think  it  will 
be  best  to  leave  what  we  can  out  in  the  pure 
air  until  I  get  things  cleared  up  a  little.  The 
first  thing  will  be  to  get  the  woman  on  a  clean 
bed.  Mr.  Gray  said  you  could  stay  and  help 
me  as  long  as  I  needed  you." 

Patrick,  who  would  do  any  thing  for  "  Miss 
Marian,"  assented,  and,  carefully  covering  his 
horses,  began  to  unload. 

The  doctor  had  said  that  if  his  patient  could 
be  bathed  in  saleratus-vvater,  it  would  be  re- 
freshing and  beneficial ;  and  Marian  remember- 
ing had  brought  a  package,  and  also  a  supply 
of  towels  and  soft  cloths  from  her  own  store. 
What  a  wonder  that  bath  was  to  the  miserable 
woman  ! 

And  I  want  to  stop  here,  and  ask  you,  my 
friend,  if  you  think  it  was  a  little  thing  to  do  ? 
If  young  Gray  could  have  seen  that  delicate 
girl  standing  amid  the  squalor  and  filth  of  that 
hovel,  surrounded  by  that  miserable  group,  with 
the  father  lying  upon  a  bundle  of  rags  in  the 
corner  in  a  half-unconscious  state,  he  might 


38  TRANSFORMED. 

have  changed  his  opinion  in  regard  to  the 
"sentimentalism  "  of  at  least  one  of  the  group 
of  "sweet  girl-graduates."  But  I  do  not  know  : 
his  prejudices  were  deep ;  and,  although  he  had 
learned  to  respect  and  admire  Miss  Kingsley, 
he  was  still  sceptical ;  and  it  would  have  re- 
quired, even  then,  the  knowledge  of  more  than 
one  act  of  self-sacrifice  to  remove  it. 

Patrick  was  called  to  assist  in  arranging  the 
clean  bed,  and  to  lift  the  invalid.  When  the 
poor  woman,  in  fresh,  sweet-smelling  garments, 
was  finally  laid  between  the  clean  sheets,  upon 
the  soft  yielding  bed,  it  seemed  to  Marian  that 
she  could  see  a  look  of  peace  steal  over  her  wan 
face ;  and,  as  if  talking  to  herself,  the  poor 
creature  said,  "  Can  it  be  ?  "  and  Marian  bend- 
ing low  caught  the  whisper  again,  — 

"  Can  it  be  ?     Is  it  heaven  ?  " 

There  had  been  no  time  to  do  any  thing 
towards  making  the  room  clean ;  and  Marian 
looked  with  dismay  at  the  accumulations — it 
seemed  to  her  it  must  be  of  centuries  —  which 
the  changing  of  the  bedding  had  revealed.  To 
make  the  invalid  as  comfortable  as  possible,  was 


TRANSFORMED.  39 

the  first  consideration  :  other  matters  must 
wait.  She  had  directed  Patrick  to  take  from 
a  basket  which  grandmother  Gray  and  Bridget 
had  filled,  some  crackers  and  cakes  for  the 
hungry  children  ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  mother 
seemed  to  be  resting,  she  said,  — 

"  Now,  children,  we  have  a  great  deal  to  do. 
While  your  mother  sleeps,  we  must  clear  up 
here  a  little.  There  are  some  potatoes  in  a  bag, 
and  some  apples ;  and,  if  you  will  help  me,  I 
will  cook  some  meat,  and  give  you  a  grand  sup- 
per. First  we  will  clear  off  those  shelves,  and 
place  the  things  I  have  brought  there.  Here 

—  what  is  your  name  ?     Reg  ?     Well,  take  those 
chairs  outside,  and  scrub  them  thoroughly  with 
this  brush.     Here's  soap,  and  a  basin  of  water. 

—  Here,  Johnnie,  you  are  to  wash   the   table, 
and  as  soon  as  your  father  wakens  we  will  have 
him  mend  it."     And  so  directing  the  rest,  and 
working  busily  herself,  going  in  often  to  look 
at  her  patient,  things  began  to  look  "  cleared 
up." 

When,  about  six  o'clock,  the  doctor  drove  up, 
and  hurried  anxiously  in,  he  stopped  at  the  door 


40  TRANSFORMED. 

astonished.  The  shelves  across  the  "  L  "  had 
been  cleared  of  rubbish,  and  covered  with  news- 
papers, of  which  enough  had  been  taken  from 
the  different  packages.  The  stove  had  been 
washed ;  and  Marian  had  promised  the  children 
that  she  would  bring  some  blacking  the  next 
time  she  came,  so  that  Reg  could  black  the 
stove.  Old  Barney  had  roused  himself,  and 
working  under  Marian's  direction,  —  submissive 
like  the  others  to  her  ordering, — had  succeeded 
in  mending  the  old  table  so  that  it  could  be 
set  out  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  though  it 
required  some  propping  on  account  of  the 
unevenness  of  the  floor.  The  supply  of  news- 
papers holding  out,  Marian  had  improvised  a 
table-cover  ;  and  having  found  among  the  rub- 
bish that  lay  around  the  room,  especially  in  the 
corners,  quite  a  supply  of  dishes  and  knives 
and  forks,  the  table  was  set  for  the  family. 
Even  the  missing  old  spoon  had  been  found. 
There  were  baked  potatoes  and  fried  meat,  and 
a  loaf  of  bread  and  some  butter,  besides  milk 
in  an  old  tin  cup. 

They   were   waiting    for    Barney,    who,   still 


TRANSFORMED.  41 

working  under  Marian's  direction,  wa?  cutting 
wood  to  fill  a  box  which  had  been  found  out- 
side, and  which  Marian  decided  should  be  the 
wood-box. 

"  You  must  have  wood  enough  to  keep  a  fire 
all  night,"  she  declared;  "for  Mrs.  Barney  is 
very  sick,  and  must  have  a  warm  room." 

The  doctor  advanced  to  the  side  of  his  pa- 
tient, and  was  still  more  astonished  at  the 
change  in  her  appearance.  She  was  certainly 
no  worse,  and  some  symptoms  seemed  rather 
more  favorable.  She  was  not  so  restless  as  the 
previous  day.  "  Miss  Marian,  are  you  a  fairy? " 
he  said;  then,  more  seriously,  "what  have  you 
eaten  to-day  ? " 

"Nothing  since  breakfast,  excepting  a  cup  of 
chocolate  when  we  went  down  home  at  noon." 

"  I  thought  likely.  Well,  get  ready  to  go  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  But  what  will  we  do  about  to-night  ? " 

"I  don't  know  ;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  you 
cannot  stay  here.  I  think  Barney  is  sober 
enough,  and  has  sense  enough,  to  manage,  and 
to  carry  out  my  directions.  Anyway,  it  is  all 


42  TRANSFORMED. 

we  can  do.  I  told  Mr.  Gray  I  would  bring  you 
home." 

"  I  thought  I  would  stay  until  about  ten 
o'clock,  and  told  Patrick  to  come  then,"  she 
replied. 

"  You  are  to  go  with  me." 

After  giving  Barney  some  peremptory  orders, 
the  doctor  hurried  Marian  away.  When  they 
were  gone,  the  family  sat  down  to  their  own 
table,  for  the  first  time  in  years !  It  is  a  fact, 
that  none  of  the  younger  children  had  ever 
seen  a  table  set  for  a  meal ;  and  they  gazed 
wonderingly  at  the  unwonted  spectacle. 


TRANSFORMED.  43 


CHAPTER   V. 

"  For  even  Christ  pleased  not  himself." 

MARIAN  KINGSLEY  had  been  cared  for  by  her 
guardian  and  his  wife  with  great  tenderness, 
and  she  felt  that  she  owed  to  these  early  friends 
of  her  parents  respect  and  deference  to  their 
wishes.  But  in  most  matters  she  was  allowed 
to  have  her  own  way.  In  regard  to  going  to 
the  Barney  hovel,  Mrs.  Gray  was  strongly  op- 
posed ;  but  her  husband  yielded  to  Marian's 
persuasions,  and  grandmother  Gray  said,  — 

"  Let  the  child  go  !  It  may  be  that  she  will 
do  them  good.  And  there  is  not  much  risk  to 
run  ;  Barney  is  not  ugly  or  cross,  even  when 
he  has  been  drinking." 

And  so,  with  encouraging  words,  Marian  was 
allowed  to  go  her  way,  with  this  restriction : 
she  was  not  to  spend  a  night  in  the  swamp. 


44  TRANSFORMED. 

For  many  days  Mrs.  Barney  hovered  upon 
the  borders  of  the  grave.  Dr.  Carlton  said  he 
had  been  unable  to  get  the  control  of  the  fever, 
and  that  it  must  run  its  course  ;  and  run  it  did 
for  weeks.  And  when  at  last  the  fever  left  the 
patient,  it  left  her  so  weak  that  it  seemed  impos- 
sible that  she  could  rally. 

Marian  was  faithful  to  her  self-imposed  task. 
Every  morning  she  went  to  spend  a  few  hours 
caring  for  the  sick  woman.  Sometimes  she 
rode  up  with  the  doctor;  and  sometimes  Pat- 
rick drove  up  with  her,  and  went  again  after 
her  later  in  the  day. 

It  was  during  the  first  week  of  her  acquaint- 
ance with  the  family,  that  she  undertook  the 
task  of  clearing  out  that  bedroom.  The  work 
had  to  be  done  cautiously  and  quietly,  during 
the  more  comfortable  hours  of  the  patient ;  but 
the  doctor  said  she  would  be  more  likely  to  re- 
cover if  the  place  were  clean,  even  if  she  should 
be  somewhat  disturbed  by  the  cleansing  process. 

Just  over  the  head  of  the  bed,  high  enough 
to  be  reached  by  one  lying  in  bed,  was  a  shelf 
fastened  upon  the  wall :  here  stood  an  old  tin 


TRANSFORMED.  4.5 

candlestick  with  a  tallow  candle  in  it.  It  had 
been  Mrs.  Barney's  habit  to  lie  in  bed,  and  read 
novels  ;  and  the  drippings  from  the  candle  had 
smeared  the  shelf,  and  accumulated  in  masses 
of  dirty  tallow.  And  while  she  read,  Barney 
smoked;  and  at  the  other  end  of  the  shelf  were 
clay  pipes,  black  and  vile-smelling,  bits  of  to- 
bacco, burnt  wisps  of  paper,  and  little  heaps  of 
ashes.  There  was  a  dime  novel  or  two,  a  piece 
of  mouldy  bread,  a  slice  of  salt  pork  dry  and 
rusty,  a  saucer  of  grease  with  a  rag  in  it  which 
had  been  made  to  take  the  place  of  the  candle 
when  that  gave  out.  Under  the  bed  —  how 
shall  I  tell  it  ?  Marian,  in  speaking  of  it  after- 
wards, said,  — 

"Reg  and  I  cleared  it  out;  but  oh,  it  was 
dreadful !  He  carried  out  three  bushel-basket- 
fuls  of  rubbish,  —  shovelled  it  in  with  an  old 
shovel.  There  were  sticks  of  fire-wood ;  Reg 
said  the  way  those  came  there  was  by  being 
thrown  under  the  bed  to  scare  out  the  cat. 
There  were  rotten  apples,  potatoes,  rags  and 
paper,  dime  novels  and  old  pipes,  half-used 
packages  of  tobacco,  a  broken  jug  and  empty 


46  TRANSFORMED. 

bottles.  There  were  long-lost  garments  too. 
Once  Reg  held  up  an  apron  ;  and  his  mother 
said  faintly,  'Why,  there's  that  apron  of  Nan's 
that  I  looked  everywhere  for,  and  I  reckoned 
she'd  done  gone  and  lef  it  in  the  berry-lot  las' 
summer ! '  And  another  time  Reg  exclaimed, 
'There's  that  shoe  of  mine  !  I  lost  it  two  years 
ago ;  and  I  couldn't  wear  the  mate,  so  I  went 
barefoot.  I  reckon  t' other's  round  somewheres. 
I'll  have  a  pair  now.  But  laws  !  they'd  be  too 
small  for  me,  —  jist  about  big  'nuff  for  Pug. 
Reckon  it  must  'ave  been  more'n  two  years 
since  I  lost  it.' ' 

Marian  discovered  that  the  boy  Sam  was 
teachable  in  the  line  of  housekeeping ;  and  she 
taught  him  how  to  prepare  some  plain  dishes, 
and  showed  Annie  how  to  set  the  table,  so  that 
between  the  two  a  sort  of  housekeeping  was 
carried  on.  She  also  discovered  that  Sam  could 
be  trusted  to  give  his  mother  her  medicine  reg- 
ularly,—  that  is,  as  regularly  as  possible  with- 
out a  timepiece, — and  one  day  while  rummag- 
ing in  the  attic  she  found  an  old  clock,  which  she 
coaxed  a  jack-at-all-trades  in  the  village  to  put 


TRANSFORMED.  47 

into  running  order,  and  this  she  lent  to  Sam. 
I3ut  she  found,  to  her  astonishment,  that  none 
of  the  children  were  able  to  tell  the  time  from  a 
clock ;  and  she  spent  several  days  in  teaching 
them  this  accomplishment. 

The  people  who  had  so  long  been  indifferent 
to  the  welfare  and  enlightenment  of  the  heathen 
in  their  vicinity,  now  that  some  one  had  been 
found  .to  take  an  interest  in  them  were  ready  to 
follow  and  help  with  their  means,  though  no 
one  was  found  ready  to  put  a  hand  to  the  work. 

One  day  Dr.  Carlton  said,  — 

"The  woman  stands  a  narrow  chance  of  get- 
ting well,  with  all  those  children  in  the  house 
continually :  they  cannot  keep  very  still,  and 
she  needs  quiet." 

Marian  made  some  calls  that  afternoon.  To 
Mrs.  Preston  she  said,  — 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  a  favor.  I  am  trying  to 
find  places  for  two  of  the  Barney  children  for 
a  few  days  while  the  mother  lies  so  low :  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  give  them  a  bed, 
and  feed  them." 

"What !  those  dirty  little  vagrants?" 


48  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Oh !  I  assure  you  they  are  not  dirty.  I 
washed  them  myself,  and  they  have  decent 
clothing:  indeed,  they  are  quite  respectable." 
And  Marian  pleaded  so  earnestly  for  the  for- 
lorn little  ones,  that  Mrs.  Preston  consented  to 
receive  them  if  Betty  was  willing ;  and  Marian 
was  allowed  to  plead  with  Betty,  and  succeeded 
quite  as  easily,  —  indeed,  more  easily  than  with 
her  mistress.  Mrs.  Stone  promised  to  take 
Estelle  for  a  few  days.  And  Marian  took  the 
little  one  home.  She  prevailed  upon  Bridget  to 
look  after  him  during  the  hours  she  spent  with 
the  sick  mother.  "  If  you  will  only  take  care 
of  him  while  I  am  away,"  she  said,  "  I  will  make 
it  up  to  you."  And  Bridget,  who  knew  Miss 
Marian  meant  what  she  said,  and  that  it  would 
be  a  liberal  making-up,  consented  to  do  a  kind 
act. 

The  place  was  more  quiet  with  the  younger 
ones  away ;  Sam  acting  as  nurse,  Reg  going  in 
and  out  subdued  and  still,  doing  many  a  kind 
and  thoughtful  act  for  the  sake  of  Miss  Marian, 
who  had  won  his  heart  by  her  kindness  and 
tact.  Barney  himself  drank  less  whiskey  than 


TRANSFORMED.  49 

usual,  and  smoked  less.  He  kept  the  supply  of 
fire-wood  constantly  replenished ;  and  at  Mari- 
an's suggestion  he  brought  some  boards  from 
the  neighboring  saw-mill,  and  laid  them  down 
in  both  rooms  as  evenly  as  possible,  for  a  floor. 
"It  will  be  better  than  the  damp  ground,"  Mar- 
ian said  ;  "  and  when  your  wife  is  better  you 
can  lay  them  properly." 

A  great  many  things  were  to  be  done  when 
the  sick  woman  should  be  well  again.  Marian 
always  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted,  that  the 
condition  of  affairs  was  largely  owing  to  the  ill- 
ness of  the  wife  and  mother.  She  never  criti- 
cised or  blamed,  but  sympathized  with  the 
family  in  their  misfortunes,  and  encouraged 
them  to  hope  for  better  things  when  their 
mother  should  be  well  again.  Already  a  feel- 
ing of  self-respect  was  springing  up  in  the  boy 
Reg's  heart ;  and  Marian  moved  cautiously,  and 
prayed  that  it  might  not  be  trampled  upon 
and  crushed  out. 

Dr.  Carlton,  meeting  young  Gray  one  day, 
said  to  him  with  a  quizzical  expression,  "  Miss 
Kingsley  has  selected  a  queer  spot  for  angling." 


50  TRANSFORMED. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Oh,  nothing!  only,  if  I  were  going  to  put 
a  hook  into  the  water,  I  would  select  a  stream 
which  was  frequented  by  the  sort  of  fish  I 
wanted  to  catch  ;  that's  all.  She  won't  catch 
any  thing  over  at  Barney's,  unless  it  be  a  ty- 
phus or  malaria." 

"  Seems  to  me,  doctor,  you  talk  in  riddles/' 
said  his  friend. 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  young  man  who  not 
many  months  ago  suggested  that  a  young  lady's 
life-work  was  to  angle  for  a  husband  ;  and  I  re- 
marked just  now  that  Miss  Kingsley  has  chosen 
a  queer  place  for  her  fishing-ground,  if  a  hus- 
band is  what  she  is  after.  I  never  saw  the 
husband  that  I  thought  was  worth  what  she  has 
been  through  during  the  last  four  or  five  weeks." 

"  Oh  !  Miss  Kingsley  has  no  other  amusement 
at  present.  Let  something  come  up  which 
promises  more  entertainment,  and  I'll  warrant 
you  she  will  drop  the  Barneys." 

"Not  while  that  woman  needs  her.  She  is 
not  the  sort,  having  put  her  hand  to  a  thing,  to 
turn  back." 


TRANSFORMED.  51 

"  I  feel  like  proving  you  in  the  wrong  for 
once  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Gray. 

"  How  would  you  do  it  ? " 

"  By  actual  experiment." 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"  I  mean  that  I  would  prove  to  you  that  Miss 
Kingsley  can  be  turned  from  this  absorbing 
occupation,  or  entertainment,  simply  by  the 
presentation  to  her  mind  of  a  matter  of  selfish 
interest ;  and  my  sister-in-law  and  myself  have 
such  a  plan  in  view." 

"  You  will  fail." 

"  We  will  not  fail :  I  am  sure  of  it.  Miss 
Kingsley  is  not  superior  to  certain  induce- 
ments, as  I  shall  prove  to  you.  It  is  no  secret ; 
at  least,  it  will  not  be  after  this  evening.  I 
am  going  out  to  my  brother's  to  talk  it  over. 
Lewis  only  decided  this  morning  that  he  could 
bring  it  about.  It  is  only  this  :  my  brother 
and  his  wife,  with  Cora  Butler,  Miss  Kingsley, 
and  myself,  will  make  up  a  party  to  spend  the 
winter  in  Florida.  Miss  Kingsley  was  very 
anxious  to  go  a  month  ago,  and  I  think  her 
Quixotic  scheme  for  lifting  up  the  Barneys  will 


52  TRANSFORMED. 

fall  to  the  ground  before  this  opportunity  of 
realizing  her  dream.  If  they  go,  they  are  to 
start  in  a  week  from  now." 

"  Your  plan  will  fail,"  said  the  doctor.  "  The 
mistake  you  make  is  in  thinking  she  has  a 
scheme  for  elevating  the  Barneys.  She  simply 
sees  a  bit  of  work  there  waiting  for  her,  and 
she  has  put  her  hand  to  it :  that  is  all.  And  it 
is  work,  but  it  tells !  I  would  not  give  a  flip 
for  the  woman's  life  if  Miss  Kingsley  deserts 
her  now." 

"  Nonsense  !  That  sort  of  people  live  through 
every  thing." 

"  Well,  I'd  like  to  go  out  with  you  to-night, 
and  witness  your  triumph,"  with  a  slight  em- 
phasis upon  the  last  word. 

"Very  well.  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  com- 
pany, and  you  know  you  are  a  welcome  guest 
at  my  brother's." 

The  two  friends  found  Mrs.  Gray  alone,  and 
apparently  not  in  good  humor. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came  out,"  she  said  to  her 
brother-in-law ;  "  and  I  am  glad  to  see  Dr.  Carl- 
ton  ;  though  I  believe,  if  he  did  not  get  us  into 


TRANSFORMED.  53 

this  trouble,  he  has  helped  it  on,  and  now  he 
ought  to  help  us  out." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  asked  young 
Gray. 

"  Marian  says  she  cannot  go  with  us.  If  the 
doctor  here  will  only  say  that  she  needs  a 
change,  perhaps  she  would  believe  him." 

Just  then  Marian  entered  the  room,  looking 
the  picture  of  perfect  health.  The  doctor 
smiled  at  the  idea  of  sending  her  off  to  Florida 
in  search  of  what  she  already  possessed  in 
perfection. 

Very  soon  after  the  greetings,  the  subject  of 
the  Southern  trip  was  again  brought  up.  This 
time  it  was  Mr.  Fred  Gray  who  broached  it : 
"  Miss  Marian,  what  do  you  think  of  this  plan 
of  Lewis's  ? " 

"Oh!  I  am  very  glad  he  has  decided  to  go. 
I  only  hope  that  the  doctor's  hopes  will  be 
realized,  and  that  he  will  come  back  strong 
and  well.  Of  course  I  shall  miss  them  dread- 
fully, but  I  am  so  busy  that  I  shall  not  mind 
it  much." 

"  But  you  are  going  with  them  ?  " 


54  TRANSFORMED. 

"  No :  I  cannot  see  my  way  clear  to  go.  I 
was  wild  to  spend  this  winter  in  Florida,  but 
that  was  before  I  got  my  hands  so  full  of  work. 
I  may  go  later,  if  there  should  be  an  opportu- 
nity for  escort,  and  I  could  leave.  I  am  glad 
Cora  is  going :  you  will  be  a  pleasant  party." 

"But,  Marian  —  Miss  Kingsley  —  I  don't  un- 
derstand. But  come  into  the  library :  I  want 
to  talk  with  you  ; "  and  rising  he  led  the  way. 

Since  that  June  day  when  Fred  Gray  went 
up  to  the  commencement  to  bring  home  his 
brother's  ward,  he  had  become  somewhat  famil- 
iar with  that  young  lady.  They  had  been 
thrown  much  together,  as  he  was  often  at  his 
brother's  home.  He  had  found  her  a  pleasant 
companion,  and  admired  her  very  much  ;  indeed, 
he  sometimes  fancied  that  he  more  than  ad- 
mired her.  But,  after  all,  he  knew  very  little 
about  the  real  girl  Marian,  as  events  proved. 
She,  on  her  side,  liked  the  young  man.  Half 
the  charm  of  this  Florida  scheme  lay  in  the  fact 
that  he  was  to  make  one  of  the  party.  She 
said  she  was  glad  that  Mrs.  Gray's  sister  was 
going,  and  she  spoke  truly;  yet" it  cost  her  a 


TRANSFORMED.  55 

little  effort  to  be  glad.  Cora-Butler  liked  Fred 
Gray,  and  she  was  herself  a  very  attractive 
young  lady :  what  might  not  come  of  their  being 
thrown  together  in  this  way  ?  There  was  a 
powerful  temptation  set  before  this  girl  Mari- 
an ;  and  as  Fred  placed  her  in  an  easy-chair, 
and  stood  beside  her  ready  for  the  talk,  she 
wondered  within  herself,  would  she  hold  out 
against  them  all,  especially  against  him  ? 

"Now,  Miss  Marian,  will  you  allow  me  to 
express  my  views  about  this  matter  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  have  neither  the  right  nor  the 
wish  to  deny  you  the  privilege  of  free  speech," 
she  said,  laughing. 

"Believe  me,  Marian,  this  is  not  a  subject  for 
jest." 

She  was  sober  instantly.  "  Excuse  me,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  did  not  know  —  Has  any  thing  hap- 
pened ?  Is  uncle  Lewis  worse  than  we  have 
thought  ? "  And  her  cheek  had  paled  in  an 
instant.  Perceiving  this  he  replied  quickly, — 

"Nothing  has  happened,  or  is  likely  to  hap- 
pen, that  I  know  of.  But  I  want  to  ask  you 
seriously,  why  you  refuse  to  join  this  party.  Is 


56  TRANSFORMED. 

there  any  thing  disagreeable  in  the  making-up 
of  the  party  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  !  it  is  perfect."  Then  she  blushed 
at  her  own  admission  ;  but  rallying  from  her 
momentary  confusion  she  added,  "  But  I  cannot 
leave  Waltham  just  at  present;  because  I  have 
put  my  hand  to  some  work,  and  unless  the  need 
for  my  staying  should  suddenly  cease,  I  must 
not  drop  what  I  have  undertaken." 

"But,  Marian," — and  his  voice  took  on  the 
persuasive  tone  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to 
use  effectively,  —  "  others  have  need  of  you.  I 
have  been  looking  forward  to  this  trip  with 
pleasure  ever  since  Lewis  proposed  it.  The 
Barneys  have  no  claim  upon  you." 

"You  are  mistaken.  The  Barneys  have  a 
claim  upon  me,  just  now,  that  is  stronger  than 
any  other." 

"  What  is  that  claim,  pray  ? " 

"They  need  me." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  Mr.  Fred  Gray  quite  forgot 
himself  in  his  vexation  over  his  evident  failure 
to  make  an  impression,  or  he  would  never  have 
spoken  thus  to  a  lady ;  and  he  instantly  apolo- 


TRANSFORMED.  57 

gized :  "  Excuse  me.  But,  Marian,  you  might 
say  the  same  of  all  the  poor  wretches  in  the 
country.  They  all  need  you,  but  you  will 
scarcely  consider  it  your  duty  to  look  after 
them  all?" 

"  No,  only  those  whom  I  can  reach.  We  are 
never  required  to  work  impossibilities." 

"  Only  those  whom  you  can  reach  !  Then  I 
suppose,  after  you  have  made  the  Barneys  over 
new,  you  will  try  your  hand  upon  some  other 
outcast  family." 

"  Possibly  :  I  work  under  orders." 

He  looked  an  inquiry  which  she  answered,  -— 

" '  What  saith  my  Lord  unto  his  servant  ? ' 
Mr.  Gray,  I  am  a  servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ :  I  may  not  shirk  when  he  gives  me 
work." 

"  Of  course  not.  I  am  a  Christian  too  ;  but 
I  believe  the  Lord  has  given  us  common-sense 
to  guide  us,  and  that  is  the  only  way  he  directs 
us  as  to  our  work." 

She  smiled.  "Then,  you  do  not  believe  that 
he  meant  it  when  he  said,  '  I  will  instruct  thee, 
and  teach  thee  in  the  way  which  thou  shalt 
go '  ? " 


58  TRANSFORMED. 

"Certainly  I  believe  it,  in  just  that  way :  we 
are  to  follow  our  judgment,  and  live  up  to  the 
light  of  reason,  —  subjecting  all,  of  course,  to 
the  general  teachings  of  the  word  of  God." 

"Then,  you  do  not  think  that  we  may  receive 
special  direction,  and  that  the  word  of  God  con- 
tains particular  as  well  as  general  directions?" 

"  Miss  Marian,  we  are  getting  away  from  the 
subject.  We  do  not  want  to  discuss  theolo- 
gical questions  to-night :  we  shall  have  time 
enough  for  that  in  sunny  Florida,  among  the 
orange-groves." 

"  Mr.  Gray,  cannot  I  make  you  understand 
that  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question  that  I  should 
join  your  party  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  understand  it.  I  think 
Lewis  ought  to  use  his  authority." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  but,  while  I  acknowl- 
edge that  I  owe  much  to  your  brother,  I  believe 
that  he  does  not  claim  to  have  any  authority 
over  my  personal  movements.  However,  I 
should  feel  that  I  ought  to  yield  to  his  wishes. 
But  he  quite  agrees  with  me,  and  has  decided 
to  make  his  arrangements  without  regard  to 
me." 


TRANSFORMED.  59 

"And  he  will  leave  a  young  girl  like  you 
here  alone !  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Grandmother  Gray  is  to  remain 
here,  at  least  as  long  as  I  do  :  if  she  goes  to 
stay  a  while  with  Helen,  I  shall  accompany  her. 
Indeed,  that  is  one  reason  why  uncle  Lewis 
and  I  have  decided  that  I  ought  to  stay.  She 
wishes  to  remain  here,  and  she  ought  not  to  be 
left  alone." 

Now,  Mr.  Fred  Gray  was  very  fond  of  his 
mother,  and  he  was  just  a  little  touched  by  this 
thoughtfulness  on  Marian's  part.  Still,  he  had 
supposed  she  would  spend  the  winter  with  his 
sister  Helen  in  her  city  home,  and  he  was  just 
a  little  vexed  that  his  last  argument  was  knocked 
away.  He  fully  expected  to  convince  Marian 
and  his  brother  that  it  would  be  very  improper 
for  her  to  remain  at  home  alone  with  only  the 
servants  ;  but,  if  his  mother  was  to  be  there, 
there  was  no  chance  for  any  discussion  on  that 
point. 

"  Oughtn't  we  to  return  to  the  parlor  ? "  asked 
Marian  presently.  "  I  see  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Preston  have  come  in." 


60  TRANSFORMED. 

Dr.  Carlton  could  not  help  giving  a  little 
glance  of  "  I  told  you  so  "  at  his  friend,  as  the 
pair  re-entered  the  parlor,  Marian  calm  and 
serene,  Fred  looking  savage.  Presently  he 
went  across  the  hall  to  his  mother's  room,  to 
try  to  persuade  her  that  if  she  positively  would 
not  go  to  Florida  it  would  be  better  for  her  to 
go  to  Helen  at  once. 

"  You  know,  mother,  we  should  all  feel  easier 
if  we  knew  you  were  with  one  of  your  children. 
If  you  should  be  sick,  who  would  take  care  of 
you  ? " 

"  Why,  Marian  and  Dr.  Carlton,  of  course." 

Fred  winced :  the  coupling  of  those  names 
was  quite  unpremeditated  on  his  mother's  part, 
but  he  did  not  like  it  some  way. 

"That  is  one  reason  why  I  do  not  want  to  go. 
Dr.  Carlton  tells  me  confidentially  that  he  is 
going  away  from  Waltham  in  February,  and  I 
am  anxious  to  continue  the  treatment  he  is  giv- 
ing me  as  long  as  possible.  I  presume  Marian 
and  I  will  go  to  Helen's  as  soon  as  he  leaves." 

Evidently  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained 
here ;  and,  somewhat  wrathful,  the  young  man 


TKA  XSFORMED.  6 1 

announced  to  his  friend  that  he  was  ready  to  go. 
He  waited  impatiently  while  Dr.  Carlton  made 
a  deliberate  adieu,  stopping  to  chat  a  moment 
with  Marian  and  Mrs.  Preston  about  the  little 
Barneys. 

"  We  have  opened  a  regular  orphan-asylum," 
declared  Mrs.  Preston.  "  My  husband  told 
Marian  only  this  morning  that  he  was  quite 
ready  to  take  in  all  she  would  bring,  after  she 
had  fixed  them  up  a  little.  He  says  he  would 
never  suspect  that  they  were  the  same  children 
he  passed  on  the  street  a  few  weeks  ago,  carry- 
ing an  empty  bag." 

"  I  declare  ! "  said  Fred  savagely,  "  I  believe 
the  whole  town  has  gone  crazy  over  that  miser- 
able outcast  family.  I  wish  I  had  never  heard 
of  them." 

Mrs.  Preston  looked  at  him  with  wonder  in 
her  face ;  and  the  young  man,  seeing  that  he 
was  making  an  idiot  of  himself,  laughed,  and 
said, — 

"  Come,  doctor,  if  you  are  going  home  with 
me,  you'll  have  to  wind  up  that  conversation." 


62  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

«  What  think  ye  of  Christ  ? " 

SOON  after  her  first  visit,  Marian  Kingsley 
fell  into  the  habit  of  reading  a  little  to  her  pa- 
tient as  soon  as  she  had  attended  to  her  physi- 
cal needs.  The  few  dime  novels  which  were 
scattered  about,  greasy  and  dog-eared,  were  the 
only  books  the  hovel  contained  ;  excepting  an 
old  primary  spelling-book  from  which  the  par- 
ents, in  some  spasm  of  interest  in  their  wel- 
fare, had  taught  the  older  boys  to  read  a  little. 
Reg  could  read  simple  words,  and  Sam  quite  as 
well ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  read,  why  should 
they  learn  ?  As  for  going  to  school,  that  was 
out  of  the  question  :  they  never  had  clothes  to 
make  themselves  decent.  Once,  a  long  time 
ago,  Reg  went  for  a  few  days ;  and  that  was 
how  they  became  possessed  of  a  spelling-book. 


TRANSFORMED.  63 

The  other  children  had  never  seen  the  inside 
of  a  schoolhouse  or  church.  As  for  a  Bible, 
they  had  not  even  heard  the  name,  much  less 
seen  one.  Think  of  it !  within  the  sound  of 
the  church-bells,  in  a  Christian  community,  and 
had  never  seen  a  Bible !  Dear  reader,  do  you 
live  in  Waltham?  and  are  there  any  Barneys  in 
your  neighborhood  ?  If  so,  God  grant  that  you 
may  be  a  Marian  Kingsley  ! 

When  Marian  asked  the  sick  woman,  "  Shall 
I  read  a  little  to  you  ? "  she  replied,  "  Yes  :  I 
was  reading  a  story  when  I  got  too  sick  to  read 
any  more,  but  I  dunno  what's  come  o'  the 
paper." 

"  Never  mind :  I  have  a  book  which  I  think 
you'll  like." 

And  softly  she  read  bits  from  the  Word  of 
God  ;  only  a  few  verses,  for  the  woman  was  very 
weak.  She  read  without  comment,  praying 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  might  make  the  word  effect- 
ual. One  morning  there  was  a  slight  show  of 
interest,  and  the  pale  lips  moved  :  — 

"  What  was  that  ?  " 

Marian  repeated,  " '  Come   unto   me,  all   ye 


64  TRANSFORMED. 

that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.' " 

"Who  said  that?  I  am  —  weary:  I  want  — 
rest." 

"  Christ  says  it." 

"  Is  it  —  true  ? " 

"Yes,  it  is  true :  I  know  it  is  so.  You  may 
trust  him." 

"But  I  am  sick — I  cannot  go.  I  wish  I 
could,  I  am  so  tired  ! "  And  the  eyes  closed, 
and  the  weary  hands,  which  had  been  raised  a 
little  in  her  eagerness,  fell  helplessly. 

Marian  laid  down  her  book.  "  Let  me  tell 
you  about  it.  You  need  not  go  :  Christ  can 
hear  your  faintest  whisper.  You  have  surely 
heard  of  God  ? " 

"  Yes ;  but  it  was  so  long  ago  —  I  cannot  re- 
member. God  is  a  Spirit  —  is  that  it?" 

"  Yes,  God  is  a  Spirit :  he  is  here,  and  if  you 
whisper  ever  so  softly  he  will  hear  you." 

"Me!     Hear  me!" 

"  Yes :  he  has  said  so.  All  who  will  may 
come  to  him." 

Then,  lest  her  patient  be  wearied  with  talk- 
ing, Marian  began  to  sing  softly,  — 


TRANSFORMED.  65 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul." 

And  presently  the  tired  brain  and  wearied 
body  sank  into  a  restful  sleep. 

Another  time  she  said,  — 

'"Blessed  are  they  that  hunger  and  thirst.' 
I  have  been  so  hungry  !  Will  I  be  fed  ? " 

Sometimes,  while  the  mother  slept,  Marian 
talked  to  the  boys,  Reg  and  Sam.  She  told 
them  the  story  of  Jesus,  making  it  plain  and 
simple ;  so  that  it  was  clear  to  them  that  Jesus 
became  a  little  child,  that  he  went  about  doing 
good,  and  at  length  was  cruelly  put  to  death 
by  his  enemies.  As  she  dwelt  tearfully  upon 
the  sad  details  of  the  story,  Sam  exclaimed,  — 

"What  a  shame!     I  hate  them!" 

"But  Jesus  forgave  them." 

"  I  wouldn't !     I'd  have  hated  them !     What 
did  he  do  it  for  ?     He  was  God,  he  could  have 
kiKed  them  in  a  minute:  what  did  he  let  them* 
do  it  for  ?  " 

Then  Marian  tried  to  tell  them  how  Christ 
died  for  them,  how  for  their  sins  he  had  suf- 
fered ;  and  slowly  Sam  seemed  to  take  in  the 
wonderful  truth,  saying  as  it  dawned  upon  him, 


66  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Are  you  sure  it  is  true  ?  Mam  sometimes 
tells  us  stories  that  would  be  nice  if  they  were 
true,  but  you  say  this  is  true  ? " 

"  It  is  true,  Sam.  Christ  loves  us  all ;  and  he 
died  for  us,  and  he  wants  us  to  love  him." 

"  Why,  I'll  love  him  if  he  wants  me  to !  I 
should  think  anybody  would.  What  does  he 
want  me  to  do  ?  " 

This  question  startled  Marian.  Here  was  a 
soul  repeating  the  cry  of  one  arrested  by  the 
Spirit,  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  on  the  road 
to  Damascus  !  Could  it  be  that  in  that  hovel 
a  soul  had  been  born  into  the  kingdom  ? 
Amazed  and  awed,  lifting  her  heart  to  God  in 
quick  petition,  she  replied,  — 

"Sam,  he  wants  you  to  just  give  yourself  to 
him,  to  be  his  servant  forever.  His  commands 
are  all  written  out  in  this  Book  ;  and  you  must 
4earn  to  read  it,  and  you  will  know  his  will. 
You  must  pray  to  him  continually." 

"  I  never  heard  any  one  pray :  I  don't  know 
how." 

Ten  years  old,  and  never  heard  a  prayer ! 

"  Miss  Kingsley,"  he  said,  "  is  that  what  they 


TRANSFORMED.  6/ 

do  at  a  place  they  call  a  church  ?  I've  seen 
that  big  white  house  with  a  thing  on  the  top, 
and  I've  hearn  the  bell  sometimes  in  summer ; 
but  I've  never  been  in  there.  Would  they  let 
me  in  if  I  could  learn  how  to  pray  ? " 

Marian  replied  promptly  to  this  inquiry ;  yet 
in  her  heart  she  wondered,  would  they  ?  Not 
that  she  thought  for  an  instant  that  they  would 
turn  the  poor  little  lame  boy  away  from  the 
church-door, — at  least,  if  he  should  appear 
clothed  respectably  :  she  was  not  so  sure  how 
it  would  be  if  he  wore  the  garments  in  which 
she  first  saw  him,  or  if  they  knew  that  he  was 
one  of  the  Barneys. 

There  was  something  wrong  about  the 
Waltham  church.  It  was  dying,  —  freezing 
to  death  !  Marian  herself  had  been  chilled 
through  and  through.  She  had  come  into  that 
fold,  full  of  zeal,  expecting  to  be  met  with  sym- 
pathy, and  to  be  allowed  to  work  for  her  Mas- 
ter. She  had  mistakenly  supposed  that  there 
would  be  work  to  do  in  that  church.  But  there 
was  actually  nothing  to  do, — certainly  nothing 
for  the  younger  members.  She  had  come  from 


68  TRANSFORMED'. 

a  school  and  a  church  that  were  wide  awake  in 
missionary  work,  as  well  as  in  other  branches 
of  church  work ;  and  she  looked  for  the  same 
thing  everywhere. 

"When  does  your  missionary  society  meet  ?" 
she  asked  one  of  the  young  ladies,  soon  after 
her  arrival  among  them.  A  look  of  blank 
amazement  was  the  only  reply  she  received. 
Missionary  society,  indeed ! 

"  We  have  no  such  society,"  her  new  friend 
managed  to  say  at  last. 

"  Do  you  meet  with  the  older  ladies  ?  Well, 
that  is  pleasant,  though  some  people'  think  it 
is  better  for  the  girls  to  meet  by  themselves. 
When  does  the  woman's  society  meet  ?  the  first 
Wednesday  in  every  month,  as  it  does  almost 
everywhere  ?  And  do  you  sew  and  knit,  and 
have  tea,  or  just  a  devotional  meeting?" 

Again  that  look  of  astonishment ;  indeed,  it 
was  utter  bewilderment  this  time. 

"  I  really  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
about !  I  never  heard  of  any  societies  in  our 
church.  We  sometimes  have  a  mite-society 
when  they  want  to  raise  money  for  lamps,  or 


TRANSFORMED.  69 

something  of  that  sort ;  but  I  don't  know  any 
thing  about  missionary  societies." 

Not  quite  quenched,  Marian  suggested  that 
it  might  be  pleasant  to  organize  a  mission- 
band  ;  but  the  response  to  this  proposition  was 
disheartening. 

"  Oh !  I  haven't  time  to  give  to  any  such 
matter.  I  am  very  busy  with  my  German  and 
embroidery ;  indeed,  I  do  not  get  time  to  make 
half  the  calls  I  ought  to  make." 

However,  there  were  a  few  young  ladies  who 
did  seem  interested  in  the  scheme ;  but  upon 
consulting  the  mothers  they  were  informed 
that  it  was  a  very  foolish  idea,  that  the  church 
did  not  believe  much  in  foreign  missions,  and 
that  it  would  not  be  considered  proper  for  the 
young  ladies  to  set  themselves  above  the  older 
members  in  such  a  matter.  Mrs.  Carlton,  the 
doctor's  mother,  said  to  Marian,  when  she 
asked  if  there  was  really  nothing  done  by  the 
ladies  for  missions,  — 

"  We  have  no  organization.  Sometimes, 
when  we  know  that  the  people  in  Brighton  are 
going  to  send  off  a  box,  those  of  us  who  are 


70  TRANSFORMED. 

interested  make  up  a  package  to  put  in ;  and 
that  is  about  all  we  do  for  missions  besides  the 
annual  collection,  the  amount  of  which  you  can 
find  out  for  yourself  by  looking  up  the  report. 
I  never  have  courage  to  look.  I  know  it  must 
be  small." 

"  But  why  is  it  that  we  have  no  missionary 
society  ? " 

"Because  there  is  not  sufficient  life  among 
us.  I  have  made  two  or  three  efforts  to  start 
one,  but  have  failed ;  and  I  should  not  advise 
you  to  undertake  it." 

Marian's  next  chill  was  received  at  the 
weekly  prayer-meeting.  After  the  pastor  had 
said,  "The  meeting  is  now  in  your  hands, 
brethren,"  and  two  or  three  of  the  brethren 
had  improved  the  opportunity  in  long  prayers 
and  exhortations,  this  young  girl,  with  a  heart 
full  of  love  for  her  Master  in  whose  name  they 
had  met,  expressed  her  joy  at  having  found 
this  home  in  the  Church  of  Christ,  and  asked 
to  be  received  as  one  of  the  workers,  and 
shown  what  to  do.  She  was  immediately  con- 
scious that  she  had  made  a  mistake ;  indeed, 


TRANSFORMED.  7 1 

it  was  hinted  at  in  the  remarks  and  prayers 
which  followed  ;  and  as  they  left  the  lecture- 
room  Cora  Butler  said, — 

"  Why,  Marian  Kingsley !  I  ought  to  have 
told  you,  but  I  never  dreamed  that  you  would 
do  such  a  thing." 

"  Why,  what  have  I  done  ? "  asked  the  bewil- 
dered girl. 

"Nothing,  only  nobody  ever  speaks  in  meet- 
ing here  excepting  the  old  men,  and  it  sounded 
queer :  besides,  I  don't  think  they  liked  it." 

After  a  few  efforts  in  keeping  with  her  zeal- 
ous, enthusiastic  nature,  which  were  met  with 
the  same  chilling  indifference,  or  what  might 
almost  be  called  opposition,  Marian  Kingsley 
began  to  realize  that  the  atmosphere  was  differ- 
ent from  that  in  which  she  had  spent  the  last 
four  or  five  years.  It  was  fortunate  for  her, 
as  well  as  for  the  church  of  Waltham,  that  she 
became  interested  in  the  Barneys ;  though  noth- 
ing was  farther  from  her  thoughts  then  or  ever, 
than  that  the  fire  in  her  own  heart  should 
creep  by  a  circuitous  route  into  the  church, 
and  melt  the  ice  of  aristocratic  complacency. 


72  TRANSFORMED. 

Thinking  of  the  chilliness  which  she  had 
felt,  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  girl  hesitated 
over  Sam's  question?  But  she  answered, — 

"  Yes,  Sam,  that  is  what  they  do  there,  — 
worship  God  in  songs  of  praise,  and  prayer. 
But  it  is  a  long  walk  for  you.  When  warm 
weather  comes  again,  perhaps  you  can  go. 
But  you  can  learn  to  read  the  Bible  and  pray 
at  home,  even  if  you  cannot  get  to  the  house 
of  God." 

With  a  powerful  incentive  thus  before  him, 
Sam's  progress  in  learning  to  read  was  some- 
thing wonderful.  Every  spare  hour  was  spent 
poring  over  a  reading-lesson. 

And  meantime  Barney  worked  nearly  every 
day.  Marian  had  managed  to  have  him  sent 
for  by  one  and  another  of  the  neighboring 
farmers,  for  a  day's  work. 

"  You  know  you  will  have  to  do  something 
for  the  support  of  the  family,  and  I  am  sure  it  is 
better  to  do  it  in  a  way  to  help  them  to  a  little 
self-respect  than  to  make  beggars  of  them." 

"But  the  man  won't  work,"  said  Mr.  Pres- 
ton, to  whom  she  made  her  first  application. 


TRANSFORMED.  73 

"I  think  he  will,  if  only  you  authorize  me  to 
say  that  you  have  work  for  him." 

Mr.  Preston  smiled,  a  doubtful  expression 
upon  his  face,  as  he  replied,  "  Well,  send  him 
along.  I  will  give  him  work  so  long  as  he 
keeps  sober.  But  I  tell  you,  Miss  Kingsley, 
you  have  a  bigger  job  on  your  hands  than  you 
think ! " 


74  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father." 

BY  degrees  the  home  of  the  Barneys  took  on 
a  look  of  something  like  comfort.  It  was  not 
a  very  striking  specimen  of  a  pleasant,  com- 
fortable home  :  still,  there  was  an  improvement. 
Besides  the  new  floor,  there  were  whole  panes 
in  place  of  the  broken  ones  in  the  windows  ; 
even  the  third  window,  which  had  been  boarded 
up,  was  found  to  be  not  beyond  repairing.  The 
door  was  re-hung;  and  Marian  had  contrived  a 
way  to  have  the  stove-pipe  carried  up  through 
the  roof  instead  of  out  of  the  window,  so  that 
the  stove  no  longer  smoked. 

One  day,  as  she  was  leaving,  she  appeared 
with  an  empty  jug  in  her  hand.  Barney  was 
talking  with  Patrick  at  the  sleigh  ;  and  she  said, 
"I  thought  I  would  take  this  jug  down,  and 


TRANSFORMED.  75 

have  Patrick  get  it  filled  with  sirup  to-night. 
The  children  will  like  some  for  their  cakes ;  and 
it  can  just  as  well  be  brought  up,  and  save  Reg 
the  journey  down  after  it." 

Her  assurance  almost  staggered  the  man. 
Why,  that  was  his  whiskey-jug!  Did  she  know 
it  ?  He  could  not  tell,  but  he  ventured  to 
say,— 

"  I  don't  think,  Miss  Kingsley,  that  'ere  jug's 
fit  ter  put  merlasses  inter." 

"I  know  it  smells  queer,"  she  replied;  "but 
Bridget  will  scald  it,  and  that  will  make  it  all 
right." 

The  man  was  silent, — absolutely  awed  into 
silence !  He  had  meant  to  go  to  town  himself, 
after  she  went  away,  and  have  the  jug  filled 
with  a  very  different  article.  As  they  drove 
away  Patrick  said,  — 

"  Why,  Miss  Marian,  do  you  know  you  have 
old  Barney's  whiskey-jug  there?" 

"Have  I?"  she  asked  innocently.  "Well, 
sirup  will  be  a  very  good  substitute." 

As  for  Barney  himself,  he  went  in  muttering, 
"Wall,  a  merlasses-jug  is  a  good  thing  ter  have 


76  TRANSFORMED. 

in  the  house  ; "  and  straightway  took  himself 
off  to  buy  a  new  whiskey-jug.  But,  as  money 
was  scarce,  he  was  unable  to  buy  a  jug,  and 
get  it  filled  besides,  so  he  was  compelled  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  smaller  quantity  than  usual ; 
and  he  kept  the  jug  hidden  until  it  was  empty. 
But  afterwards,  leaving  it  in  sight,  Marian  ex- 
claimed, — 

-  "  Now  that  is  nice  !  You  have  a  jug  for  milk. 
I'll  send  it  right  down  by  the  doctor,  and  when 
Patrick  comes  after  me  he  can  bring  the  milk 
for  your  suppers." 

And  she  did.  Barney  had  not  a  word  to  say : 
he  was  astounded.  But  he  thought  within  him- 
self, "  What  will  she  put  into  the  next  one  ? " 
But  he  could  not  be  buying  jugs  all  the  time  ; 
and  he  resolved  to  get  hold  of  that  one  again, 
as  soon  as  ever  it  was  empty. 

Barney  had  one  good  trait :  he  would  not  run 
into  debt,  even  for  liquor;  he  would  drink  as 
long  as  the  money  lasted,  and  then  abstain  until 
he  was  in  funds  again.  And  it  was  about  the 
same  way  with  supplies  of  food :  they  had 
enough  until  the  money  gave  out,  and  then 


TRANSFORM-ED.  77 

they  starved  until  pension-money  was  received. 
Neither  did  he  often  take  his  drinks  at  a  hotel 
or  saloon  bar :  he  was  accustomed  to  get  his 
jug  filled,  and  bring  it  home,  sharing  with  his 
wife.  Now  and  then  he  would  go  off  on  a  spree, 
and  remain  away  for  a  day  or  two ;  but  such 
occasions  were  comparatively  rare.  He  was 
too  lazy  to  care  much  for  society  ;  and  his  drink- 
ing was  for  the  most  part  done  at  home,  so  that 
a  whiskey-jug  was  considered  a  necessity.  But, 
for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  Barney  de- 
cided not  to  invest  any  more  money  in  whiskey- 
jugs. 

At  length  Mrs.  Barney  was  pronounced  con- 
valescent ;  and  Dr.  Carlton  said  to  her, — 

"  You  owe  your  life  to  Miss  Kingsley.  You 
would  certainly  have  died  if  she  had  not  come 
to  you." 

And  the  woman  answered,  with  deep  emo- 
tion, — 

"  I  know  it.     I  owe  every  thing  to  her." 

The  time  came  when  Marian  felt  that  she 
could  be  released  somewhat  from  her  watchful 
care  of  this  family  so  strangely  thrown  in  her 


78  TRANSFORMED. 

way.  The  Gray  party  had  delayed  their  in- 
tended departure,  —  principally  on  account  of 
some  business  complications  which  had  unex- 
pectedly arisen,  detaining  Mr.  Gray,  —  so  that 
about  the  middle  of  January  they  were  all  to 
go,  Marian  with  them. 

When  Mrs.  Barney  began  to  go  about  the 
house,  there  was  a  tenderer  expression  upon 
her  face  than  had  ever  been  seen  there  before. 
Even  Barney  noticed  it,  and  it  seemed  to  have 
a  softening  effect  upon  him ;  and  when  Marian 
came  to  say  good-by  they  both  wept  like  chil- 
dren. 

"What  can  we  do  for  you?  I  owe  my  life  to 
you,"  said  the  woman,  swaying  back  and  forth 
upon  her  rickety  chair,  and  sobbing  as  if  her 
heart  would  break.  "  Yes,  and  more  than  my 
life,"  she  added  with  sudden  emphasis.  "  What 
you  have  told  me  about  God  is  worth  more  than 
this  miserable  life." 

And  Barney  himself,  shambling  from  the  bed- 
room where  he  had  gone  to  hide  his  emotion, 
said, — 

"  Miss  Kingsley,  we  owes  every  thing  ter  ye. 


TRANSFORMED.  79 

We're  good  fur  nothing  anyway,  even  now ;  but 
we  was  was  when  you  took  us  in  hand.  My  old 
woman  here  was  putty  nigh  about  dropping  off 
this  'ere  life ;  and,  as  Dr.  Carlton  sez,  she  owes 
her  life  ter  ye.  So  it  sorter  belongs  ter  ye. 
And  seein'  we're  one  flesh,  as  the  minister  said 
we  was,  what's  done  fur  one  is  done  fur  t'other : 
so  ef  ther's  any  thing  we  kin  do  fur  ye,  to 
kinder  show  our  gratitood,  why,  ye  must  jist 
say  the  word,  and  it's  done."  And  Barney 
finished  this  remarkably  long  speech  with  an 
unwontedly  energetic  movement  of  his  lank 
figure. 

Then  suddenly  both  husband  and  wife  dropped 
upon  their  knees  before  the  astonished  girl,  and 
exclaimed  in  one  breath,  "Tell  us  what  we  can 
do  to  show  our  gratitude  ! " 

Then  Marian  replied,  "  Friends,  there  is  one 
thing  you  can  do,  which  will  make  me  glad,  and 
will  benefit  you  more  than  all  I  have  done  for 
you." 

"Tell  us  what  it  is:  we  will  do  any  thing!" 

"It  is  this:  Promise  me  that  you  will  give 
up,  now  and  forever,  whiskey,  tobacco,  and 


80  TRANSFORMED. 

novel-reading,  and  that  you  will  read  this  Bible 
which  I  am  going  to  leave  with  you  ;  and  prom- 
ise me  that  you  will  send  the  children  to  school 
and  to  Sunday  school." 

"We  will :  we  will  do  every  thing  you  ask." 

Then  Marian  said  to  Barney,  "  Your  wife  has 
begun  to  pray.  I  wish  you  would  begin  :  it  will 
not  be  easy  to  keep  the  promises  you  have  made 
here  to  me,  unless  you  seek  help  from  God." 

Barney  replied,  "  I  knows  I  am  a  poor  weak 
critter  :  I've  been  ashamed  sence  you  begun  to 
come  here.  We've  been  living  jist  like  beasts  ! 
I'm  bound  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

"And  will  you  kneel  down  here,  and  make  to 
God,  on  your  knees,  the  promises  you  have 
made  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will!" 

I  verily  believe  that  at  that  moment  it  would 
not  have  been  easy  for  Marian  Kingsley  to  find 
any  thing  to  ask  of  that  man  or  his  wife  that 
they  would  not  have  undertaken  to  do.  And 
there  on  the  rough  floor  of  the  cabin  they  knelt, 
—  the  wondering  children,  following  Sam's  ex- 
ample, knelt  too,  —  while  Marian  prayed. 


TRA  NSFORMED.  8 1 

That  prayer  came  from  the  depths  of  a  sim- 
ple, trusting  heart.  It  was  an  earnest  pleading 
for  these  outcasts  of  society,  asking  that  they 
might  have  their  manhood  and  womanhood  re- 
stored to  them,  that  they  might  have  strength 
to  carry  out  their  resolutions,  and  that  God 
would  raise  up  friends  for  them,  that  they  might 
not  lack  for  sympathy  and  encouragement  in 
their  efforts  to  lead  a  new  life. 

Then  the  woman,  who  was  just  learning  to 
pray,  took  up  the  petition  ;  and  Marian  in  her 
surprise  said  within  herself,  "  Where  did  she 
learn  to  pray  ?  "  So  simple  and  trusting  were 
her  words,  so  pure  her  tones,  so  correct  her  lan- 
guage, that  Marian  could  scarcely  believe  her 
own  senses.  So  quickly  do  we  learn  when 
taught  by  the  Spirit. 

Then,  as  they  lingered  upon  their  knees,  little 
Nan's  voice  was  lifted  up ;  and  in  very  childlike 
words  she  asked  God  to  make  them  all  good. 
Kind  Mrs.  Preston  had  taught  the  child  a  sim- 
ple prayer,  and  strangely  appropriate  it  was  to 
this  time. 

Still  they  waited ;  and  now  the  husband  and 


82  TRANSFORMED. 

father  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  prayed.  He 
said,  "  God  in  heaven,  I  need  strength  to  keep 
the  promises  I  now  make  before  thee.  I  do 
solemnly  promise  before  Heaven  to  give  up 
strong  drink  now  and  forever,  and  tobacco  in 
every  form  ;  and  I  promise  to  read  the  Bible, 
and  to  try  to  pray,  and  to  live  a  Christian  life  : 
so  help  me  God." 

"Amen!"  said  Marian  fervently. 

Soon  they  said  good-by  to  their  kind  friend, 
but  it  was  with  the  expectation  of  seeing  her 
again  within  three  months.  How  little  she  or 
they  dreamed  of  the  years  that  would  pass,  or 
of  all  that  would  come  into  their  lives,  before 
they  saw  her  again  ! 

And  now  Marian  Kingsley  went  away  from 
Waltham.  She  had  lived  there  six  months 
only ;  and  yet  she  had  set  in  motion  forces 
which  would  touch  many  lives,  and  do  much  to 
revolutionize  habits  of  thought  and  feeling. 
For  years  no  person  had  come  into  their  midst 
so  quietly,  moved  about  among  them  so  unobtru- 
sively, and  gone  so  silently,  who  had  left  behind 
such  a  far-reaching  influence.  And  yet  Marian 


TRANSFORMED.  83 

Kingsley  never  knew  all  she  had  done,  though 
in  after-times  some  of  the  results  of  that  win- 
ter's work  were  revealed  to  her  ;  yet  the  years 
immediately  following  were  so  filled  with  work 
of  much  the  same  sort,  that  this  effort  was  not 
to  stand  out  in  her  memory  as  any  thing  re- 
markable. 

She  went  away,  expecting  to  return  in  three 
or  four  months ;  but,  instead  of  months,  it  was 
years  before  she  saw  Waltham  again.  Return- 
ing from  Florida  in  April,  upon  reaching  New 
York  she  left  the  party,  to  visit  some  relatives 
in  that  vicinity  ;  who  a  little  later  carried  her 
off  to  the  sea-side  for  the  summer,  and  then  in 
September  to  the  mountains  for  a  few  weeks,  — 
"to  see  them  light  up  with  autumn  glory,"  one 
of  the  cousins  said. 

Meantime  it  began  to  be  evident  that  Mr. 
Gray  could  not  endure  the  Northern  winters  ; 
and,  acting  upon  the  advice  of  his  physician,  he 
determined  to  remove  with  his  family  to  the 
Pacific  Coast.  Of  course  Marian  would'  go 
with  them,  and  she  had  intended  to  return  to 
Waltham  to  assist  in  the  packing  ;  but  a  sudden 


84  TRANSFORMED. 

illness  seizing  her,  after  she  returned  from  the 
mountains,  it  was  determined  that  she  should 
not  undertake  the  extra  journey,  but  should  join 
the  Grays  in  New  York,  on  their  way  to  the 
San-Jacinto  Valley. 


TRANSFORMED.  85 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"  Pure  religion  .  .  .  unspotted  from  the  world." 

I  HAVE  told  you  that  Frederic  Gray  was  much 
interested  in  Marian  Kingsley,  even  before  the 
Florida  trip ;  and,  during  the  weeks  that  they 
were  so  constantly  together,  his  admiration  for 
that  young  lady  was  in  no  wise  lessened,  though 
he  was  obliged  to  divide  his  attentions  some- 
what between  the  two  young  ladies  of  the  party. 

Cora  was  an  attractive  girl,  with  apparently 
no  great  depth  of  character,  —  one  of  those 
pretty  girls  who  drift  along  upon  the  waves  of 
society,  with  no  very  definite  aims  in  life.  Cora 
expected  to  marry  some  time,  —  at  least,  she 
presumed  she  would,  —  but  she  was  in  no 
hurry :  she  enjoyed  life ;  society  treated  her 
well ;  she  had  plenty  of  money  to  go  where  she 
liked,  and  to  wear  what  she  pleased.  She  was 


86  TRANSFORMED. 

not  capable  of  a  sacrifice,  and  fortunately  never 
felt  called  upon  to  make  one.  She  liked  Fred 
Gray,  whom  she  had  known  from  childhood ; 
and,  being  very  fond  of  admiration,  she  sought 
to  win  his  attentions  only  for  their  own  sake. 
She  liked  to  hold  him  in  her  train  of  admiring 
friends. 

At  this  period  Fred  was  quite  sure  that  he 
was  in  love  with  Marian,  and  he  felt  equally 
certain  that  he  would  be  accepted  whenever  he 
chose  to  offer  her  his  hand.  This  assurance 
was  not  strange.  Frederic  Gray  was  not  used 
to  being  denied  any  thing  ;  besides,  flattery  and 
petting,  added  to  his  native  conceit,  fostered 
the  impression  in  his  own  mind  that  he  was 
quite  irresistible. 

Now,  I  do  not  want  to  give  you  an  unfavor- 
able opinion  of  this  young  man.  He  was 
looked  upon  as  quite  a  model  young  gentleman. 
People  said  he  was  bound  to  rise  in  his  profes- 
sion (that  of  the  law) ;  and  no  doubt  he  would 
rise,  for  he  possessed  ability  somewhat  above 
the  average.  He  was  ambitious  too,  and  made 
everything  subservient  to  the  end  in  view.  He 


TRANSFORMED.  87 

was  a  church-member,  and  I  really  think  he 
was  a  Christian  even  then  ;  though  his  standard 
of  Christian  attainment  was  low,  and,  having 
reached  his  standard,  he  had  no  thought  of 
going  beyond.  He  always  went  to  church  and 
Sunday  school,  except  when  his  Saturday-night 
labors  were  too  wearying,  so  that  he  needed  the 
sabbath  for  rest  without  worship  instead  of  rest 
and  worship.  He  was  pretty  regular  at  prayer- 
meeting,  though  sometimes  a  lecture  or  concert 
detained  him.  He  neither  smoked,  nor  drank 
wine ;  though  he  kept  a  few  choice  cigars  on 
hand  for  his  friends,  and,  if  a  point  was  to  be 
gained,  he  saw  no  reason  why  the  crowd  should 
not  be  responsible  for  the  sort  of  entertainment 
which  they  might  choose  at  his  expense. 

Perhaps  you  can  understand  why  he  did  not 
quite  satisfy  Marian  Kingsley,  after  she  came 
to  know  him  better.  At  first,  as  I  have  said, 
she  was  pleased  with  his  attentions,  and  the 
Florida  trip  had  charms  for  her  because  he  was 
to  be  of  the  party  ;  and  you  will  remember  that 
the  thought  of  being  left  behind  while  Cora 
Butler  should  be  thrown  constantly  in  his  soci- 


88  TRANSFORMED. 

ety  had  brought  to  her  the  greatest  temptation 
of  her  life  ;  and  the  fact  that  Fred  had  been 
almost  angry  with  her,  for  adhering  to  what  she 
considered  her  duty,  had  made  the  trial  harder. 
After  all,  Providence  had  interfered ;  and,  the 
journey  having  been  delayed,  they  all  set  off 
together.  In  the  weeks  that  followed,  the 
young  people  came  to  know  each  other  better, 
and  often  found  themselves  at  variance  upon 
points  of  Christian  practice. 

Unlike  Cora,  Marian  had  very  decided  views 
upon  whatever  topic  came  up  for  consideration, 
and  conscientious  as  well  as  decided.  Marian 
Kingsley  never  once  thought  of  laying  aside  her 
motto  when  she  left  home,  and  found  work 
wherever  she  went.  Those  in  sorrow  and  need 
are  everywhere,  and  she  was  not  long  in  finding 
some  one  who  needed  her  help. 

"  Seems  to  me,  Marian,"  said  Fred  one  day 
when  she  had  given  a  helping  hand  to  a  poor 
family,  "that  you  did  enough  of  that  sort  of 
thing  in  Waltham  to  last  at  least  until  you  get 
back  there." 

"  My  text  reads,  '  Do  good  as  ye  have  oppor- 


TRANSFORMED.  89 

tunity ; '  but  I  suppose  you  read  it,  '  Do  good 
in  Waltham.' " 

"  I  wish  you  would  get  off  that  hobby  of 
yours." 

"  Which  one  ?  "  she  asked,  smiling. 

He  went  on,  not  heeding  her  question,  "You 
spoil  all  your  enjoyments  with  this  idea  of  help- 
ing every  miserable  wretch  you  come  across. 
Of  course  I  wish  everybody  was  comfortable 
and  happy ;  but  they  are  not,  and  I  can't  revo- 
lutionize things ;  and  I  do  not  think  it  worth 
while  to  make  myself  miserable  over  the  sor- 
rows of  people  who  are  nothing  to  me.  Be- 
sides, I  do  not  think  there  is  as  much  real 
suffering  as  appears  at  first  glance.  People 
who  are  used  to  things  do  not  mind.  Now, 
there's  the  Barneys.  They  have  lived  in  the 
way  you  found  them  for  years,  and  they  will  go 
back  to  the  old  way ;  and  what  will  your  self- 
sacrifice  amount  to?" 

"  I  do  not  know ;  that  part  of  the  subject  is 
not  my  business.  I  did  the  work  which  was 
set  me  to  do,  as  well  as  I  could ;  and  there  my 
responsibility  ends." 


90  TRANSFORMED. 

"Of  course,  Marian,  I  believe  in  benevo- 
lence, and  think  it  well  enough  to  give  money 
to  help  such  people.  What  I  object  to"  — 
and  here  his  voice  took  on  tljat  tender  tone 
which  made  Marian's  pulses  beat  quicker — "is 
your  going  into  such  places.  There  are  women 
whose  business  it  is  to  look  after  the  poor,  — 
employed  by  societies.  But  I  cannot  bear  to 
think  of  you  in  such  surroundings.  Promise 
me  you  will  do  up  your  charities  by  proxy. 
Will  you?" 

"  I  can't !  Why,  Fred,  that  child  I  cared  for 
this  morning  would  have  died- while  I  was  run- 
ning around  in  search  of  some  of  those  women 
whose  business  you  say  it  is  to  look  after  such 
cases." 

Upon  this  and  many  other  points  they  never 
came  to  an  agreement. 

One  day  Fred  came  in  with  the  declaration, 
that  "at  last  there  was  to  be  a  change  in  the 
programme  ;  the  dulness  of  which  they  had 
been  complaining  was  to  be  broken  up." 

"Who  has  been  complaining?"  asked  Marian. 
"  I  am  sure  Cora  and  I  have  not  been  dull,  and 


TRANSFORMED.  91 

if  you  have  it  is  not  very  complimentary  to 
us." 

Mr.  Gray  laughed,  and  begged  the  young 
ladies'  pardon,  and  said,  — 

"  However,  Miss  Marian,  you  must  acknowl- 
edge that  had  it  not  been  for  our  satisfaction 
in  each  other's  society,  we  must  have  found  it 
dull  here." 

"  I'll  not  acknowledge  any  such  thing.  I 
could  never  be  dull  in  this  perfect  climate. 
Sunshine  and  a  basket  of  oranges  satisfy  me." 

"  O  you  dreadful  girl !  Pleasures  of  the 
appetite!"  exclaimed  Cora  Butler.  "But,  Mr. 
Gray,  if  you  and  Miss  Kingsley  can  stop  quar- 
relling long  enough  for  you  to  tell  us  what  it 
is  that  is  to  break  in  upon  our —  I  mean  your 
dulness,  I  shall  be  glad." 

"A  party;  or  rather,  a  ball.  Just  think  of 
it,  —  a  regular  swell  affaii  !  You  young  ladies 
will  have  an  opportunity  to  display  your  fine 
dresses  and  your  graceful  dancing." 

"  How  delightful ! "  exclaimed  Cora,  but 
Marian  was  silent. 

"  You   do  not  speak,  Miss  Kingsley.     Does 


92  TRANSFORMED. 

your  pleasure  of  anticipation  take  away  your 
power  of  expression  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Gray. 

"  Not  quite,"  she  replied :  "  it  will  scarcely 
make  a  ripple  in  the  even  current  of  my 
life." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  You'll  go, 
surely  ? " 

"  Hardly,  as  I  do  not  dance." 

During  the  few  months  of  her  residence  in 
Waltham,  it  had  so  happened  that  the  subject 
of  amusements  had  not  come  up.  The  young 
people  of  Waltham  danced  sometimes,  —  at 
least,  some  of  them  did,  —  but  dancing-parties 
were  not  common,  especially  among  the  people 
with  whom  Marian  mingled ;  in  fact,  I  suppose 
I  may  say  that  on  the  whole  Waltham  people 
did  not  favor  dancing.  But  the  question  was 
now  open. 

"Marian  Kingsley !  Are  you  one  of  that 
sort  ?  "  exclaimed  Cora. 

"  What  sort  ? "  asked  Marian. 

"Why,  the  sort  who  think  it  wicked  to 
dance." 

"I  do  not  think  it  right,"  replied  Marian. 


TRANSFORMED.  93 

"  Why,  what  harm  can  there  be  in  stepping 
about  to  music  ?  "  said  Cora. 

"We  are  not  talking  about  that.  School- 
children march  to  music,  and  go  through  their 
gymnastic  exercises  with  the  accompaniment 
of  music  ;  but  I  supposed  you  were  speaking 
of  the  modern  social  dance." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  that  is  any  worse  than 
a  great  many  other  things  Christians  do." 

"  Very  likely  you  are  right ;  but  would  you 
*  advocate  lying  because  it  is  no  worse  than 
stealing  ? " 

"Well,  I  don't  see  any  harm  at  all  in  dan- 
cing," persisted  Cora  with  a  little  petulance. 

"  Probably  not.  I  suppose  you  are  like  most 
people,  — you  have  made  up  your  mind  that  it 
is  right,  because  you  want  it  right ;  and  if  you 
investigate  the  subject  at  all,  it  is  a  one-sided 
investigation." 

"  But  will  you  tell  us  why  you  do  not 
dance  ? " 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  have  no  time  to 
waste  in  that  manner." 

"  But  do  you  think  time  wasted  that  is  spent 
in  recreation  ? " 


94  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Not  if  the  recreation  is  harmless,  healthful, 
and  moderate." 

"And  you  do  not  consider  that  your  adjec- 
tives will  apply  to  dancing  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  must  disagree  with  you,"  responded  Cora. 
"  Say,  Fred,  you  must  help  my  side :  we  are  in 
for  an  argument." 

"  On  the  principle  that  a  gentleman  ought 
to  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  weaker  party  ? " 
asked  Fred. 

"  No  :  I  have  the  best  side  of  the  question, 
of  course ;  but  you  ought  to  help  because  you 
belong  on  this  side,  and  I  foresee  a  hard  fight 
unless  you  bring  your  argumentative  powers  to 
bear  upon  the  question,  and  so  help  me  to  an 
easy  victory." 

"Go  ahead :  I'll  put  in  a  word  as  I  think  you 
need  it.  I  shall  enjoy  your  discussion,"  said 
Fred  lazily. 

"  Well,  Marian,  I  should  like  to  hear  you  dis- 
pose of  those  adjectives." 

"Very  well:  I'll  begin  with  'healthful.'  If 
it  were  true  that  the  amusement  could  be  con- 


TRANSFORMED.  95 

sidered  healthful,  I  think  you  would  hardly  be 
prepared  to  assert  that  it  is  allowable  to  seek 
healthful  pleasure  in  a  questionable  manner. 
But  almost  all  the  accompaniments  of  modern 
dancing  are  unhealthful.  If  we  confine  our  dis- 
cussion to  parlor  dancing,  there  are  the  close, 
heated,  and  often  crowded  rooms,  the  dusty 
carpets,  the  air  laden  with  the  poisonous  ex- 
halations of  the  over-heated  dancers,  mingled 
with  the  particles  of  wool  arising  from  the 
friction  of.  the  many  quick-moving  feet ;  all  to 
be  taken  into  the  lungs  with  every  breath, 
causing  incalculable  injury  to  those  delicate 
organs.  Then  the  movement  is  forced  and 
violent,  the  body  is  over-heated,  and  the  action 
of  the  heart  unduly  excited.  You  know,  Cora, 
that  Jennie  Granger  gave  her  life  in  return  for 
a  few  hours'  pleasure :  she  went  into  a  cooler 
room  after  dancing,  and  took  a  cold  which 
caused  her  death  in  a  few  weeks.  And  one  of 
the  girls  at  school  died  of  heart-disease  devel- 
oped—  so  the  physicians  said  —  by  the  violent 
exercise  of  the  dance.  Now,  as  to  the  other 
adjective.  If  we  admit  that  the  amusement  is 


9S  TRANSFORMED. 

not  healthful,  that  disposes  of  the  question  of 
its  being  harmless ;  though  perhaps  you  would 
apply  the  word  in  another  sense.  An  amuse- 
ment which  brings  us  in  close  companionship 
with  those  whose  society  we  would  shun  on 
other  occasions  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
harmless." 

"But  I  thought  we  were  only  speaking  of 
private  parties." 

"Very  well :  did  you  never  know  of  a  person 
for  whom  you  had  very  little  respect,  being 
invited  to  a  private  dancing-party  just  because 
he  was  a  fine  dancer?  I  know  that  is  often 
the  case.  And,  besides,  the  parlor  dance  is 
only  the  stepping-stone  to  the  public  hop  or 
ball.  You  want  to  confine  our  argument  to 
parlor  dances,  while  you  and  Fred  are  planning 
for  a  public  entertainment !  It  is  true,  as  I 
said,  that  home  dances  lead  up  to  the  ballroom. 
I  remember  that  Louise  Bradley  argued  just  as 
you  do  in  favor  of  parlor  dances,  and  soon  after 
we  left  school  I  read  in  a  paper  her  name 
among  the  belles  at  a  charity-ball  in  the 
opera-house.  And  speaking  of  the  question- 


TRANSFORMED.  97 

able  character  of  those  who  by  means  of  their 
one  accomplishment  gain  an  entrance  into  some 
of  our  first  circles,  reminds  me,  that,  while 
young  people  take  to  the  art  so  naturally  that 
many  learn  without  teaching,  most  are  like  my 
cousin  Fannie.  The  last  time  I  visited  her, 
she  refused  an  invitation  to  a  dancing-party, 
saying  she  would  not  go  again  anywhere  where 
there  was  dancing  until  she  could  take  lessons 
of  a  dancing-master ;  and  aunt  Corry  said  she 
did  not  know  of  a  teacher  in  the  city  with 
whom  she  would  trust  her  daughter.  It  seems 
that  the  improper  associations  begin  before  one 
is  prepared  for  the  enjoyment  of  even  parlor 
dancing." 

"You  are  hard  on  the  dancing-masters," 
laughed  Cora. 

"  And  it  is  a  fact  that  you  would  not  invite 
your  dancing-master,  or  many  of  the  pupils,  to 
your  own  house,"  said  Fred. 

"  True ;  but  I  don't  invite  all  the  people  I 
meet  at  a  concert  or  lecture,  or  even  at  church, 
to  my  own  house  either." 

"  Now,   Cora,   you   know   that   is   nonsense. 


98  TRANSFORMED. 

The  cases  are  not  parallel.  And  besides,  I 
suppose  if  your  house  were  turned  into  a  place 
for  the  worship  of  God,  you  would  open  your 
doors  even  to  the  lowest.  Associating  with 
people  in  the  way  of  pleasure  and  in  matters 
of  religion  are  different,  say  what  you  will." 

"  Seems  to  me  you  are  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  question,  sir!  " 

Fred  laughed  :  "  I  am  on  both  sides." 

"You  will  admit  that  dancing  makes  people 
graceful,"  said  Cora,  returning  to  the  argu- 
ment. 

"  Suppose  I  do  admit  it.  Is  not  a  graceful 
carriage,  gained  at  the  expense  of  health  and 
morals,  dear  bought  ?  But  there  are  many 
people  who  never  dance,  who  can  vie  with  the 
dancers  in  grace  of  movement.  This  end  can 
be  attained  by  other  means." 

"  But,  Marian,  do  you  really  think  there  is 
any  harm  in  the  mere  act  of  dancing?" 

Marian  laughed  outright.  "  Excuse  me,"  she 
said,  "but  I  always  laugh  when  any  one  brings 
that  point  out ;  and  they  always  do.  Now,  the 
act  of  swallowing  is  not  sinful :  but  if  I  swal- 


TRANSFORMED.  99 

low  a  dose  of  opium  I  commit  sin ;  I  use  a 
power  God  has  given  me,  for  a  wrong  purpose. 
The  gymnastic  exercises  of  school-girls,  or  the 
dance  of  the  children  on  the  village-green,  may 
not  be  sinful.  But  we  are  not  talking  about 
the  'mere  act:'  we  are  discussing  the  dance 
of  modern  society,  which  is  very  different ;  and 
I  insist  that  parlor  dances  are  the  nurseries  of 
the  ballroom,  and  the  ballroom  is  no  place  for 
a  Christian." 

"  But,"  said  Fred,  "  what  are  we  to  do  ? 
Dancing  is  fashionable,  and  one  appears  odd  in 
society  unless  one  engages  in  the  amusement." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  not  absolutely  necessary  to 
go  to  places  where  not  to  dance  makes  one 
conspicuous.  I  know  that  your  excuse  is  often 
given.  I  have  heard  of  a  Christian  man  saying, 
that  while  he  did  not  approve,  still  he  did  not 
like  to  have  his  daughters  appear  singular. 
But  I  would  rather  be  a  wall-flower  all  my 
life,  than  go  contrary  to  my  conscience  in  the 
matter." 

Fred  smiled.  The  idea  of  Marian  Kingsley 
being  a  wall-flower  in  any  assembly  which  she 


100  TRANSFORMED. 

might  condescend  to  grace  with  her  presence 
seemed  absurd.  But  he  urged,  "  Do  you  not 
think  your  ideas  are  growing  obsolete  ?  Are 
not  Christians  coming  to  look  with  more  favor 
upon  this  amusement  ?  " 

"  I  think  hardly,  yet  not  having  lived  in  ante- 
diluvian times  I  cannot  be  certain.  But  sup- 
pose it  be  true ;  because  the  church  is  growing 
in  worldliness,  would  you  advocate  worldliness 
in  the  church  ?  Indeed,  herein  is  my  strong 
objection  to  dancing :  it  savors  of  worldliness  ; 
and  you  very  well  know  that  when  the  world 
creeps  into  the  church,  piety  dies  out.  The 
Christian  who  tries  to  serve  Christ  and  the 
world  at  the  same  time  is  making  a  compromise 
which  will  drag  him  downward.  Living  in  a 
quiet  country  town  where  we  have  so  little  dan- 
cing that  I  was  not  aware  that  either  of  you 
were  given  to  the  amusement,  we  do  not  see 
the  evils  that  attend  its  indulgence ;  but  at  one 
time  after  I  became  a  Christian,  I  was  thrown 
into  a  circle  where  I  had  occasion  to  study  the 
subject,  and  settle  it  once  for  all.  I  have  been 
over  the  ground  again  and  again  pretty  thor- 


TRANSFORMED.  IQI 

oughly.  And  besides  considerations  of  health 
and  associations,  and  the  danger  of  falling 
into  worldliness,  many  older  and  most  earnest 
Christians  would  be  grieved ;  and  I  have  no 
right  uselessly  to  pain  them,  neither  have  I  any 
right  to  antagonize  the  labors  of  my  pastor,  or 
to  place  a  hinderance  in  the  way  of  my  own 
success  in  Christian  work.  Now,  if  you  will 
look  over  the  list  of  your  acquaintances,  where 
will  you  find  one  devoted  to  the  amusement  of 
dancing,  who  is  an  active,  earnest  worker  in 
the  church,  or  who  is  even  a  growing  Chris- 
tian? So  far  as  my  observation  goes,  dancing 
is  a  bar  to  Christian  progress.  It  unfits  the 
mind  for  serious  thought,  for  meditation  and 
prayer.  Think  of  reading  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible,  and  kneeling  down  to  pray,  in  your  ball- 
dress  !  Perhaps  I  should  not  say  as  much  ;  but 
both  of  you  will  recall  our  conversation  last 
sabbath  afternoon,  during  which  you  lamented 
your  want  of  interest  in  religion." 

"Well,  I  know  I  am  not  much  of  a  Chris- 
tian," said  Cora,  "but  I  do  not  believe  that 
dancing  is  to  be  blamed  for  it.  We  are  not  all 


102  TRANSFORMED. 

alike  in  our  tastes :  yours  run  to  good  works, 
mine  to  good  times ;  and  we'll  have  to  go  each 
her  own  way." 

"It  cost  me  something  to  give  up  dancing," 
said  Marian  in  a  quiet  tone.  Cora  looked  at 
her  in  surprise.  Evidently  she  had  not  thought 
that  Marian's  settled  views  upon  this  or  any 
other  subject  might  have  been  born  out  of  a 
struggle  with  inclination  and  love  of  the  world. 

"Well,"  she  said  at  length,  "for  my  part,  I 
am  not  ready  to  pay  the  cost." 

"There  is  another  reason  why  I  do  not 
dance,"  said  Marian.  "  So  many  of  our  dances 
are  in  themselves  of  questionable  propriety ; 
and,  as  you  very  well  know,  many  are  positively 
improper  in  the  degree  of  familiarity  which 
they  allow.  I  don't  choose  to  place  myself 
where  I  may  have  to  submit  to  the  touch  of 
those  I  would  shun  outside  the  ball-room  under 
other  circumstances." 

"  You  are  right  in  that,"  said  Fred.  "  I  con- 
fess I  should  not  like  to  see  either  of  you,  or, 
indeed,  any  lady  for  whom  I  have  any  respect, 
whirled  about  in  the  arms  of  some  of  the  fel- 


TRANSFORMED.  103 

lows  over  at  the  hotel. — And  see  here,  Miss 
Cora,  I  wish  you'd  promise  not  to  dance  any 
round  dances  next  Wednesday  evening." 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing !  If  I  get  good 
partners,  I  shall  dance  round  dances  all  the 
time.  I  just  dote  on  them.  If  I  had  to  dance 
only  square  dances,  I  would  stay  at  home." 

Cora  Butler  could  not  let  the  subject  alone ; 
and  the  arguments  were  gone  over  again  and 
again,  though  she  still  adhered  to  her  position, 
and  refused  to  yield  an  inch  of  ground.  But 
Fred  acknowledged  the  superiority  of  Marian's 
position,  and  said  to  her  privately  that  he  be- 
lieved she  was  right,  and  that  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  as  a  Christian  he  would  have  to 
give  up  dancing.  However,  the  morning  of  the 
ball  he  came  to  her  saying,  — 

"  Marian,  I  meant  to  stay  at  home  with  you 
to-night,  but  I  have  discovered  that  Cora  ex- 
pects me  to  act  as  her  escort.  I  had  planned 
in  the  first  place  for  her  to  go  with  Tom  Hast- 
ings, and  I  was  to  take  you  ;  but  Tom  says  she 
excused  herself  when  he  asked  her,  saying  she 
had  promised  to  go  with  me." 


104  TRANSFORMED. 

Marian  could  not  help  a  scornful  smile. 
Whatever  the  subject  discussed  between  them, 
while  Fred  would  very  likely  acknowledge  that 
Marian's  views  were  correct,  there  was  invari- 
ably some  reason  why  he  could  not  adopt  them. 
Sometimes,  as  in  this  case,  there  were  social 
reasons;  but  oftener  business  interests  were 
made  the  excuse. 

He  said  once,  "  A  man  may  hold  a  theory  as 
to  the  right  or  wrong  of  a  matter,  and  not  be  at 
liberty  to  express  his  convictions  on  account  of 
his  business.  It  would  hardly  do  for  me,  a  law- 
yer, to  say  under  all  circumstances  what  I  think 
and  believe.  If  I  were  an  older  man,  and  thor- 
oughly established  in  my  profession,  it  would 
be  different." 

"  I  think,  Fred,  there  is  less  excuse  for  you 
than  for  any  young  man  I  know  of." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  can  afford  to  be  out-spoken.  You  are 
not  dependent  upon  your  profession.  Under- 
stand me,  I  do  not  think  your  course  justifiable 
under  any  circumstances ;  but  it  is  easy  for  a 
young  man  struggling  to  gain  a  foothold  and 


TRANSFORMED.  105 

a  livelihood  to  argue  that  way.  I  have  never 
been  tried,  but  I  think  I  would  be  out-spoken 
under  all  circumstances." 

"  I  think  you  would,"  responded  the  young 
man  with  a  light  laugh.  He  was  well  aware 
that  Marian  Kingsley  spoke  her  real  sentiments 
without  regard  to  his  opinions,  and  he  wanted 
them  to  have  weight  with  her. 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  discretion,"  said 
Marian,  "and  I  do  not  mean  that  one  should 
express  himself  in  antagonism  to  others  with 
bluster  and  bravado  :  one's  cause  is  never  ad- 
vanced in  that  way.  But  I  do  think  that  when 
occasion  requires,  one  should  stand  by  his  prin- 
ciples." 

"  Well,  I  think  that  a  man  ought  to  look  out 
for  his  business  interests.  You  are  fond  of 
quoting  from  the  Bible.  '  Diligent  in  business ' 
is  found  there,  I  believe." 

"  '  Let  your  light  shine,'  is  another  injunc- 
tion," returned  Marian. 

"But  I  do  not  think  we  are  called  upon  to 
flaunt  our  light  in  the  face  of  other  people's  pre- 
judices," responded  Fred.  "  Now,  my  partner 


106  TRANSFORMED. 

is,  as  you  know,  interested  in  the  liquor-busi- 
ness ;  and  of  course  it  would  not  be  expedient 
for  me  to  express  myself  as  devoted  to  the  tem- 
perance cause,  however  I  may  feel  about  it." 

"  I'd  get  another  partner,"  said  Marian  with 
spirit.  "  Now  see  here,  Fred.  Some  people 
are  opposed  to  Christianity  ;  therefore  I  must 
not  declare  myself  a  Christian,  and  express  my 
faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  for  it  might  not 
be  expedient  in  a  worldly  sense  to  run  counter 
to  the  prejudices  of  infidels!"  And  Marian's 
lip  curled  slightly  in  scorn  of  his  sentiments. 

Marian  Kingsley  admired  out-and-out  people  ; 
and  though  he  did  not  suspect  it  then, — for  he 
thought  he  was  giving  expression  to  very  manly 
and  dignified  views,  —  Frederick  Gray  was 
doing  much  to  loosen  his  hold  upon  this  girl's 
heart,  by  the  utterance  of  such  sentiments. 
And  especially  his  position  upon  the  temper- 
ance question  rasped  and  angered  her.  Marian 
was  only  twenty  years  old,  and  yet  she  had 
settled  questions  which  many  girls  never  think 
of  at  all.  There  had  been  one  or  two  dark 
chapters  in  her  history. 


TRANSFORMED.  107 

"  You  wonder  why  I  hate  the  liquor-traffic  ? " 
she  said  one  clay.  "  If  you  knew  what  I  have 
lived  through  because  of  that  curse,  you  would 
cease  to  wonder.  I  am  alone  in  the  world  be- 
cause of  the  rum-fiend.  A  drunken  coachman 
caused  my  father's  death.  I  was  only  a  child, 
but  I  can  never  forget  the  scene  when  he  was 
brought  home.  The  shock  killed  my  mother. 
But,  Fred,  there  is  a  darker  page  still.  Four 
years  ago  my  only  brother  died.  His  was  not 
a  drunkard's  death,  for  he  had  reformed  ;  but 
drinking-habits  had  undermined  his  health,  and 
induced  tuberculous  consumption.  He  was 
saved  from  a  drunkard's  grave  by  the  very 
means  which  you  denounced  this  morning.  I 
do  not  often  open  these  old  wounds  ;  but  when 
you  call  me  a  fanatic,  remember  that  what  you 
name  fanaticism  is  the  outgrowth  of  suffering." 


108  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"Called  by  a  new  name." 

IT  was  not  a  light  thing,  that  which  the  Bar- 
neys had  undertaken.  It  is  not  easy  to  throw 
off  habits  of  years  ;  it  is  not  easy  to  rise  above 
a  weak,  indolent  nature,  to  break  the  chains  of 
indulgence,  to  fit  one's  living  into  new  grooves, 
to  tear  down  the  old  idols,  and  set  up  the  wor- 
ship of  the  true  God  in  the  heart  and  in  the 
home  :  and  this  was  what  they  had  pledged 
themselves  to  do.  It  meant  an  entire  revolu- 
tion of  their  manner  of  life.  It  meant  rising  in 
the  morning  at  a  seasonable  hour,  instead  of  "a 
little  more  slumber;"  it  meant  a  decent  atten- 
tion to  the  duties  of  the  toilet  ;  and  a  careful 
preparation  of  breakfast,  and  a  thankful  partak- 
ing of  it ;  to  him  it  meant  a  regular  going-forth 
to  his  day's  work,  and  a  steady  holding-on 


TRANSFORMED.  109 

through  the  day ;  to  her  it  meant  careful  house- 
wifery, and  the  training  of  the  children ;  to 
both  it  meant  a  life  of  prayer  and  study  of  the 
Bible. 

That  evening,  after  Marian  Kingsley  left 
them,  Barney  said  to  his  wife,  — 

"  When  shall  we  read  the  Book  she  left  us  ? " 

"  In  the  evening,  would  be  a  good  time,  before 
the  young  ones  go  to  bed,"  said  his  wife,  at  the 
same  time  bringing  the  large  new  Bible  from 
out  its  wrappings.  Barney  took  it  in  his  hands, 
the  children  looking  curiously  on  as  he  opened 
it  to  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  which  he  read 
stumblingly,  yet  with  an  eager  interest.  As  he 
closed  the  book,  Nan  said  shyly,  — 

"At  Mr.  Preston's  they  all  kneels  down  jist 
like  Miss  Kingsley  did  to-day,  and  he  talks 
to  God."  And  the  child  dropped  upon  her 
knees,  evidently  expecting  the  rest  to  do  the 
same.  In  her  mind,  the  reading  was  cemented 
to  the  praying. 

Barney  looked  at  his  wife. 

"  I  think  it's  what  she'd  like,"  she  said. 

"  She  "  referred  always  to  Miss  Kingsley. 


1 10  TRANSFORMED. 

And  thus,  then  and  there,  was  a  family  altar 
set  up.  In  all  the  Waltham  township,  you 
would  unhesitatingly  have  picked  out  the  Bar- 
ney household  as  the  cne  least  likely  to  estab- 
lish family  worship  ;  and  yet  here  it  was  an 
accomplished  fact.  Of  the  language  of  prayer 
as  usually  spoken,  the  head  of  the  family  was 
ignorant ;  but  taught  by  the  Spirit  he  was  able 
to  lay  their  wants  before  the  Lord.  The  next 
morning  when  they  gathered  around  the  break- 
fast-table, again  that  look  at  his  wife :  she 
nodded,  and  he  said,  — 

"  I'd  do  it  in  a  minute  ef  I  knowed  what  ter 
say :  I've  heard  it  lots  o'  times,  but  I  never  paid 
no  'tention  to  the  words.  S'pose  I  kin  say 
something  though."  And  he  did!  Perhaps 
you  would  have  smiled  at  the  phraseology  :  I 
think  the  angels  smiled  at  the  fact.  And  so 
they  began  a  new  life,  those  two,  who  had  lived 
so  long  in  sin  and  degradation. 

The  Bible  which  Miss  Kingsley  had  given 
them  was  a  large  one,  such  as  is  called  a  family 
Bible.  Mrs.  Gray  had  exclaimed  over  what  she 
considered  Marian's  folly  in  giving  them  such 
an  expensive  Bible. 


TRANSFORMED.  \  \  \ 

"It  is  well  enough,"  she  said,  "to  give  them 
a  Bible,  though  I  doubt  if  they  ever  read  a 
word  in  it ;  but  a  common  small  one  would 
do  exactly  as  well.  You'd  better  put  the  dollars 
you  would  save  into  a  barrel  of  flour." 

"I  think  not,  auntie  dear.  They  will  be  able 
to  buy  their  own  flour,  now  that  Barney  works 
all  the  time ;  and  this  Bible  will  be  more  attrac- 
tive to  the  children.  I  have  great  hopes  of 
those  children." 

The  handsome  book  was  attractive  ;  and  one 
evening  in  turning  its  leaves  over  Nan  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  See  here  !  What  pretty  vines  and  posies 
all  round  the  edges  !  Say,  dad,  what  is  it  for  ? 
There  ain't  nothing  printed  onter  these  leaves." 

Looking  over  the  child's  shoulder,  Barney 
saw  that  she  had  the  book  open  at  the  pages 
set  apart  for  the  family  record  ;  and  he  said, 
"  Why,  that's  where  they  puts  down  the  birth- 
days and  sich  like.  I've  seen  'em  once  in  court." 
Turning  to  his  wife:  "  Yer  knows,  Moll,  when 
I  had  ter  go  onter  the  witness-stand  in  that 
'ar'  Clark  case  ?  Thet  Bosting  lawyer  brought 


1 1 2  TRANSFORMED. 

Clark's  big  Bible  inter  the  court  to  pruv  thet 
Billy  was  of  age.  I  tell  yer,  we  orter  have  the 
names  put  down  here ;  I  reckon  as  how  I  kin 
write  'em." 

"  We  hain't  got  no  ink,"  said  Moll. 

"  Wall,  I  reckon  ther's  ink  in  Waltham,"  said 
Barney  with  some  dignity.  The  idea  of  having 
a  family  record  was  already  lifting  him  upon  a 
higher  plane :  the  very  fact  of  becoming  pos- 
sessor of  a  bottle  of  ink  and  a  pen  would  bring 
him  into  a  new  realm.  "  I'll  get  a  bottle  of  ink, 
and  bring  it  hum  with  me  ter-morrer  night,"  he 
said. 

"  And  a  pen,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Oh,  of  course  a  pen  !  What  would  I  do 
with  ink  without  a  pen  ? " 

Then  they  all  laughed,  —  the  merriest,  hearti- 
est laugh  that  had  ever  been  heard  in  that 
house. 

Then  they  fell  to  hunting  up  the  birthdays. 
Such  an  evening  of  reckoning,  and  such  queer 
methods  of  calculation  !  It  was  fortunate  that 
Reg's  birthday  fell  on  Christmas,  and  Sam's 
on  the  Fourth  of  July  :  those  facts  helped  along 


TRANSFORMED.  \  \  3 

wonderfully,  and  gave  them  quite  a  start.  But 
the  others  had  to  be  calculated  from  the  winter 
the  snow  piled  itself  up  in  great  drifts  almost 
covering  the  little  house,  or  from  the  time  the 
blackberries  were  so  plenty,  or  other  equally 
striking  circumstances. 

True  to  his  determination,  Barney  visited  the 
store  in  the  village  where  stationer's  goods 
were  sold,  and  invested  in  a  bottle  of  ink.  Mr. 
Bates,  the  stationer,  was  surprised  at  seeing  his 
new  customer,  and  asked  in  a  friendly  spirit,  — 

"  Going  to  send  your  children  to  school  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I  calculate  they're  going  bam-by,  but 
I've  got  other  use  for  this  'ere.  I  knows  I  don't 
count  fur  much,  but  I  used  to  be  quite  an  eddi- 
cated  man.  /  never  had  to  make  my  mark.  I 
kin  sign  papers  with  the  best  on  'em." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  returned  the  merchant. 
"  But  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  buying  for 
the  children,  and  I  was  going  to  recommend 
one  of  our  patent  inkstands." 

"  Wall,"  said  the  customer,  "  I  s'pose  they'll 
be  wanting  'em  soon,  and  I'll  most  likely  call 
around;"  and  gathering  up  his  purchases  he 
hurried  home. 


114  TRANSFORMED. 

Now,  it  never  occurred  to  this  ignorant  man, 
that  his  poor  scrawling  penmanship  would  be  a 
blemish  on  the  fair  pages  open  before  him  :  on 
the  contrary,  to  his  uneducated  eye  that  column 
of  almost  illegible  names  was  the  fairest  picture 
he  had  ever  looked  upon.  What  struggles  with 
an  almost  unmanageable  pen  it  represented ! 
what  wrinkling  of  brows  over  the  spelling  of 
names  and  the  recollection  of  dates  !  How  pa- 
tiently it  was  all  accomplished  !  For  was  it  not 
to  place  them  on  a  level  with  the  Clarks,  whose 
family  record  had  been  produced  in  court  ? 
What  might  not  this  one  prove,  some  time  in 
the  future  ?  Who  could  tell  what  destinies  it 
might  determine  ? 

It  was  not  accomplished  in  a  single  evening, 
nor  in  two  evenings.  Slowly  and  with  difficulty 
the  letters  were  formed  which  with  persevering 
effort  grew  into  names,  and  evening  after  even- 
ing saw  him  bending  to  the  task. 

One  night  there  came  to  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  family  a  revelation  ;  indeed,  it 
seemed  to  Barney  himself  almost  like  a  new 
thought.  He  had  written  his  own  name, 


TRANSFORMED.  \  \  5 

"  Thomas  Barnard,  born,"  etc.,  and  so  on,  until 
he  came  to  Nan's,  which  he  had  written  "Annie 
Louise  Barnard ; "  when  Nan,  climbing  upon 
his  knees,  asked  to  be  told  the  letters.  Slowly 
she  spelled  out  after  her  father,  "A-n-n-i-e, 
Annie ;  L-o-u-i-s-e,  Louise ;  B-a-r-n-a-r-d,  Bar- 
ney." 

"  No,  that  is  not  right :  it  is  Barnard,"  said 
the  father. 

"  But  my  name's  like  yourn,"  said  the  child. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  yourn  is  Barney." 

Then  the  man  laughed,  —  a  coarse,  heavy 
laugh,  but  it  was  a  good-natured  laugh  ;  and  he 
tossed  the  child  in  the  air,  and  said  between  his 
"  ha,  ha's,"  — 

"  You  are  a  little  goose,  to  pretend  you  dunno 
your  own  name  !  " 

"  I  do  know  my  name,  so  there  ! "  said  the 
child,  almost  inclined  to  cry.  "My  name  is 
Annie  Louise  Barney." 

"  No,  no !  Your  name  is  Barnard,  not  Bar- 
ney." 

The  children  gathered  around  with  wide-open 


Il6  TRANSFORMED. 

eyes.  Even  Reg  was  no  wiser  than  little  Nan. 
Why  should  he  be  ?  He  had  never  heard  his 
father  called  by  any  other  name  than  Barney, 
and  he  never  knew  that  it  was  not  really  their 
name.  They  never  received  any  letters :  I 
doubt  if  the  postmaster  of  Waltham  would  have 
known  where  they  belonged  if  ever  any  had 
come  for  Thomas  Barnard.  At  last  Reg  said,  — 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  !  I  like  that  name  better ; 
somehow  it's  a  name  that  yer  feels  like  making 
suthin'  outen." 

"Ya-as,"  drawled  his  father,  "it's  a  good 
name.  I've  hearn  say  as  how  there' ve  been 
Barnards  as  was  somebodies.  But  laws  !  thet 
doant  make  us  'uns  any  better  off,  as  I  knows 
on." 

But  some  way  it  struck  the  boy  Reg,  that  the 
new  name  was  worth  more  ;  and  then  and  there 
his  resolve  was  taken,  to  make  it  once  more  a 
respectable  name.  Not  that  he,  even  in  his 
mind,  shaped  the  thought ;  but  it  was  there, 
with  a  resolve  born  of  it.  As  for  Nan,  she 
swayed  herself  backwards  and  forwards  after  a 
habit  of  hers,  and  sang  softly  to  herself,  to  an 


TRANSFORMED.  1 1 7 

improvised  tune,  "  My  name  is  Annie  Louise 
Barnard,"  repeating  the  words  again  and  again. 
Presently  Reg  asked,  — 

"  Dad,  do  the  people  hereabouts  know  that 
our  real  name  is  not  Barney  ? " 

"  I  dunno  ;  never  thought  on't.  S'pose  likely 
they  doant.  They  knows  over  ter  Brighton,  ter 
the  pension-office.  Yer  see  how  'twas :  I 
worked  a  considerable  of  a  spell  fur  Square 
Clark,  and  he  called  me  Barney  for  short ;  and 
thet's  how  it  begun.  Thet  was  when  I  fust 
moved  here,  and  I  'spect  folks  never  heerd  my 
right  name." 

"  They'll  be  likely  to  hear  on't  though,"  said 
Reg. 

By  the  time  the  last  name  was  reached,  they 
had  all  grown  familiar  with  their  true  cogno- 
men ;  and,  with  familiarity,  the  resolution  to 
drop  forever  the  nickname  which  had  clung  to 
them  so  long  grew  and  was  strengthened. 

But  over  that  last  name  there  was  a  contro- 
versy. The  mother  insisted  that  it  should  not 
be  written  Jehu.  "Nobody  but  yersel'  ever 
call  him  so,"  she  said.  "  Yer  doant  want  yer- 


1 1 8  TRA  NS FORMED. 

sel*  called  Jehu,  do  yer  ?  "  she  added,  address- 
ing the  child  ;  who,  seeming  to  understand, 
stamped  his  chubby  foot,  and  exclaimed  in 
baby  tones,  — 

"  I  not  Jehu  !  I'se  Huey  !  "  and  amid  the  din 
which  arose,  the  scribe  dropped  the  pen,  and 
left  the  record  incomplete  ;  and  thus  it  remained 
for  many  months. 

Meantime  a  sabbath  had  come  into  their 
lives.  They  had  not  thought  of  going  to  church, 
but  as  its  hours  wore  away  they  began  to  talk 
about  it.  They  said,  — 

"We  ought  to  go  to  church.  Miss  Kingsley 
went :  I  think  she  would  like  it.  We  will  go 
next  Sunday."  And  they  went. 

It  was  a  sensation  in  Waltham  church,  when 
the  "  Barneys  "  appeared.  There  was  the  father 
and  mother,  Reg,  Johnnie,  and  Nan.  The  walk 
was  rather  too  long  for  the  lame  boy,  though  in 
pleasant  weather  he  might  be  able  to  go.  I 
think,  if  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  his  family  had 
appeared  in  their  midst,  without  any  warning 
of  their  coming,  the  people  could  not  have  been 
more  astonished.  However,  they  were  equal  to 
the  6ccasion. 


TRANSFORMED.  \  19 

The  sexton  seated  the  new-comers  in  an  in- 
conspicuous pew,  suggesting  to  the  boy  Reg 
that  he  ought  to  take  off  his  hat  before  entering 
the  church,  —  a  hint  which  the  father  took  to 
himself.  As  the  children  had  never  been  to 
church,  and  the  parents  not  for  years,  it  would 
not  have  been  strange  if  they  had  shown  some 
ignorance  of  church  etiquette  ;  but  they  man- 
aged to  get  through  the  service  without  any 
very  glaring  mistakes.  They  Bat  when  the 
others  did,  and  rose  when  the  others  did,  and 
bowed  in  prayer  with  the  congregation.  Bar- 
ney even  dropped  a  few  pennies  into  the  con- 
tribution-box, first  whispering  to  his  wife,  — 

"  How  much  do  they  pay  ? "  And  she  whis- 
pered back,  — 

"I  don't  know." 

And  he  put  in  whatever  he  had  in  his  pocket, 
thinking,  "  If  he  says  it  is  not  enough,  we  can 
go  out." 

Now,  if  you  suppose  the  regular  attendants 
upon  divine  service  in  that  place  gathered 
around  the  strangers  at  the  close  of  the  morn- 
ing service,  and  welcomed  them,  and  invited 


120  TRANSFORMED, 

them  into  Sunday  school,  or  asked  them  to  come 
again,  you  are  mistaken.  Some  whispered, 
"  Who  are  they  ? "  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
the  strangers  ;  but  that  was  all  the  attention 
they  received.  The  pastor  must  not  be  cen- 
sured ;  for  he  was  absent  for  a  sabbath  by  ex- 
change, else  the  family  would  never  have  been 
so  coldly  received  in  the  house  of  God.  How- 
ever, as  they  had  never  been  accustomed  to  any 
other  sort  of  treatment  until  Marian  Kingsley 
took  them  by  the  hand,  and  gave  them  Chris- 
tian sympathy,  they  did  not  feel  the  neglect  of 
Christian  courtesy  as  they  might  otherwise 
have  done.  Yet  they  did  feel  it ;  and  when  the 
next  sabbath  came  around  they  said,  — 

"We'll  stay  at  home  to-day,  and  read  our 
good  Book  to  the  children." 

The  mother  said,  "  I  wish  we  had  a  singing- 
book.  I  believe  we  could  sing  ;  and  that  would 
make  it  seem  almost  like  going  to  church, 
wouldn't  it?" 

Again  and  again  Reg  and  the  two  younger 
ones  rehearsed  the  story  of  their  church  expe- 
rience, for  the  benefit  of  Sam  and  Estelle ;  and 


TRANSFORMED.  121 

Sam  would  say,  with  a  longing  in  his  heart, 
"  I  wish  I  could  go  !  " 

After  a  sabbath  or  two  at  home,  they  tried 
the  experiment  again.  And  then  again  they 
went,  receiving  little  attention,  until  one  sab- 
bath the  usher  was  astonished  at  being  ad- 
dressed in  this  manner:  — 

"We're  coming  every  Sunday  now;  and  I 
s'pose  folks  as  comes  reg'lar  has  a  reg'lar  place 
to  set,  doant  they?" 

"  Yes,  if  they  pay  for  it,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"  Pays  for  it !  how  much  ? " 

"That  depends  upon  where  you  sit.  Some 
folks '  are  particular,  and  pay  a  pretty  large 
figure." 

"  What  is  this  ? "  asked  Mr.  Graves,  coming 
up  just  then. 

"  Nothing,  only  this  man  thinks  he  wants 
to  rent  a  pew,"  said  the  usher  with  a  little 
sneer. 

"  Ah  !  that  is  it.  We  rent  our  pews  the  first 
of  September ;  but  come  this  way,  and  I  will 
show  you  a  seat  you  can  occupy  until  that  time, 
when  you  can  choose  for  yourself." 


122  TRANSFORMED. 

"  He  choose  !  "  sneered  the  usher  ;  adding, 
loud  enough  for  Reg  to  hear,  "  beggars  mustn't 
be  choosers." 

The  seat  which  Mr.  Graves  pointed  out  was 
a  back  seat ;  but  the  family  were  grateful  and 
satisfied,  for  it  was  done  with  kind  courtesy, 
and  they  occupied  the  pew  frequently  until  the 
time  of  the  annual  rental  came  around. 


TRANSFORMED.  123 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  And  plant  gardens,  and  eat  the  fruit  of  them." 

THE  district  school  to  which  the  children  of 
this  reconstructed  family  belonged  was  a  mile 
from  their  home,  —  a  long  walk  for  the  lame 
boy;  but,  notwithstanding  his  lameness,  he  made 
one  of  a  strange-looking  group  that  was  early 
at  the  schoolhouse  at  the  opening  of  the  spring 
term. 

The  group  was  composed  of  four  poorly 
dressed  and,  to  a  stranger,  uninteresting  chil- 
dren. Evidently  no  fashionable  barber  had  had 
the  trimming  of  those  tow-colored  locks  of  the 
boys  ;  while  Nan's  hair,  instead  of  being  tied 
loosely,  and  left  to  flow  over  her  shoulders, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  day,  was  drawn  tightly 
back  from  her  freckled  face,  and  braided  in  one 
close  braid,  and  tied  at  the  end  with  a  piece  of 
twine. 


124  TRANSFORMED. 

They  had  huddled  together  in  one  corner  of 
the  room,  and  no  one  spoke  to  them,  though 
they  attracted  more  notice  than  they  desired. 
Some  one  whispered,  — 

"Why,  they  are  the  Barney  children,  as  true 
as  I  live !  What  are  they  doing  here  ?  " 

"They  are  dressed  up.  Just  look  at  that 
girl's  hair!" 

"  Say  !  I  believe  they  stole  those  clothes  out 
of  the  old  ark,"  another  said.  "  I  always 
thought  old  Barney  was  an  antediluvian.  May- 
be, now,  he  is  old  Noah  himself! " 

Though  the  group  did  not  hear  all  these 
unkind  remarks  designed  to  be  witty,  but,  as 
usual  under  such  circumstances,  failing  in  that, 
they  felt  uncomfortable,  and  Reg  was  half  a 
mind  to  give  it  all  up  and  go  home ;  but  Sam 
said,  — 

"  It  wouldn't  do  any  good :  dad  would  send 
us  back.  You  know  they  promised  her  /" 

Presently  the  teacher  came,  and  the  school 
was  speedily  organized.  She  was  a  new  teacher, 
and  a  stranger.  In  the  course  of  taking  the 
names,  she  came  to  Nan  first  of  the  stranger 
group. 


TRA  NS FOR  MED.  1 2  5 

"  What  is  your  name  ? "  she  asked  with  a 
smile  that  drove  away  Nan's  timidity. 

"  Annie  Louise  Barnard,"  she  said  in  a  low 
tone. 

The  teacher  repeated  the  name  as  she  wrote 
it  down,  —  "Annie  Louise  Barnard." 

"That  ain't  right!"  exclaimed  a  boy  who 
sat  near.  "  Teacher,  you  made  a  mistake  :  she 
said  Barney." 

"  No  more  I  didn't !  "  said  Nan.  "  I  said 
Barnard." 

"  Your  name  ain't  Barnard  :  it's  Barney." 

"'Tain't !     It's  Barnard  !  "  persisted  Nan. 

The  teacher  was  perplexed.  Then  she 
asked,  — 

"  Are  any  of  these  your  brothers  ? " 

"All  on  'em,"  said  Nan;  "and  their  names 
is  Barnard  too,  jist  like  mine.  And  my  dad's 
name  is  Barnard  too." 

"  What  is  your  real  name  ? "  asked  the 
teacher,  addressing  Reg. 

"My  name  is  Reginald  Barnard.  She  dun 
told  yer  right." 

"  My !  putting  on  airs ! "  said  the  boy  who 
had  before  spoken. 


126  TRANSFORMED, 

"  Folks  does  call  my  dad  Barney,"  said  Reg, 
"but  'tain't  right." 

"  It's  writ  down  in  the  big  Bible,"  said  Nan, 
growing  bold  ;  "  and  I  spelled  it  out,  and  it's 
Barnard.  That  boy  knows  nothin'  about  it. 
I  guess  my  dad  knows  as  what  his  name  is." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  It's  all  a  piece  of  make- 
believe  !  Their  name  is  Barney,  but  they  are 
just  trying  to  be  somebody." 

These  murmurs  of  disapproval  of  the  name 
"  Barnard  "  were  heard  in  different  parts  of  the 
room,  and  the  teacher  turned  sharply  around. 
"  I  shall  write  down  the  names  they  give  me, 
and  you  will  not  call  them  by  any  other  until 
it  is  shown  that  they  have  no  right  to  the  one 
they  claim." 

And  presently  they  stood  recorded  on  the 
teacher's  book  in  District  No.  5  :  — 

"Reginald  Barnard, 

"Samuel  Barnard, 

"John  Barnard, 

"Annie  Louise  Barnard." 

"Those  are  good  names,"  said  the  teacher 
kindly,  "and  I  hope  you  will  do  them  credit." 


TRANSFORMED.  127 

"That's  what  dad  says,"  responded  Reg. 

<;  Don't  you  think  it  would  sound  better  to 
sny  '  father '  instead  of  '  dad  '  ?  "  asked  the 
teacher,  bending  down  and  speaking  low  to 
Reg,  who  replied, — 

"  I  dunno  :  I  will  if  you  say  so." 

"Thank  you." 

And  now  their  school  life  had  fairly  begun. 
True,  their  ignorance  was  deplorable,  not  only 
of  books,  but  of  manners  and  morals.  In  their 
brief  intercourse  with  Marian  Kingsley  they 
had  learned  much,  but  they  were  still  in  the 
depths  of  ignorance.  Nan  had  caught  some 
new  tricks  of  speech  during  her  stay  at  Mr. 
Preston's,  but  had  fallen  back  into  the  old  hab- 
its as  soon  as  they  were  all  at  home  again.  It 
would  take  long  years  of  patient  endeavor  to 
eradicate  those  early  habits,  and  before  there 
could  be  a  beginning  there  must  be  some  sense 
of  need  of  improvement. 

Reg  and  Sam  were  old  enough  to  understand 
that  they  were  unlike  the  other  scholars  in  ap- 
pearance, and  far  behind  them  in  scholarship  ; 
but  these  two  had  powerful  motives  to  urge 


128  TRANSFORMED. 

them  on.  Reg  had  an  ambition  to  make,  as  he 
had  said,  something  out  of  the  family  name. 
How,  or  what,  was  an  undefined  idea ;  but  one 
thing  was  clear  to  his  mind,  — he  would  not  be 
called  "  Old  Barney."  Of  rising  to  distinction 
in  any  particular  line,  he  had  no  thought.  He 
only  knew  that  somehow  there  was  a  difference 
between  themselves  and  certain  other  people 
whom  he  knew,  and  he  was  bound  to  make  that 
difference  less ;  and  he  had  in  some  manner 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  getting  a  knowl- 
edge of  books  would  help  him  to  accomplish 
what  he  desired.  As  for  Sam,  he  too  had  an 
ambition  ;  but  it  was  not  to  make  the  family 
name  great,  but  to  make  himself  worthy  to  be 
called  by  another  name,  —  even  the  name  of 
"servant  of  Christ."  To  be  able  to  read  the 
words  of  his  Master,  and  to  understand  them 
so  as  to  be  ready  for  service,  — this  was  Sam's 
highest  aim  ;  for  this  he  studied  ;  for  this  he 
toiled  painfully  over  the  long  stretch  of  rough 
road  that  lay  between  the  little  hovel  and  the 
schoolhouse. 

Miss  Brown  was  a  conscientious  teacher,  in 


TRANSFORMED.  129 

a  sense ;  desirous  of  having  her  pupils  improve, 
though  she  never  thought  of  pointing  them  to 
Christ.  That,  in  her  estimation,  was  the  busi- 
ness of  a  Sunday-school  teacher,  not  of  a  day- 
school  instructor.  So,  while  she  sympathized 
with  Reg's  evident  desire  to  become  a  scholar, 
and  was  gratified  at  his  progress,  giving  to  him 
the  same  earnest  endeavor  that  she  gave  to"  the 
children  of  the  wealthiest,  she  never  sought  to 
inspire  in  him  a  higher  ambition.  And  while 
Sam  was  seeking  after  knowledge,  that  he 
might  know  Him  better  who  is  the  source  of 
all  knowledge,  Reg  sought  for  the  wisdom  of 
the  world,  that  he  might  advance  to  higher 
places  here. 

"  Father,"  said  Tom  Dexter,  the  boy  who 
had  been  so  forward  in  disputing  Nan,  "the 
teacher  says  we've  got  to  call  those  Barney 
children  '  Barnard.'  Do  you  suppose  that  is 
their  name  ? " 

"  Why,  no :  I  never  heard  them  called  by 
that  name,  and  should  not  have  guessed  that 
it  was  any  thing  but  Barney.  Still,  it  may  be 
Barnard,  for  aught  I  know." 


130  TRANSFORMED. 

"And  you  think  we  ought  to  be  made  to  call 
them  Barnard,  when  they  have  always  been 
called  Barney  ? " 

"I  don't  see  any  objections  to  it.  They  cer- 
tainly ought  to  know  their  own  name  better 
than  you." 

"  That  little  Nan  began  it ;  and  I  think  she 
made  a  mistake,  and  that  the  rest  of  them  just 
stuck  to  it  for  mischief." 

"  Tom,  that  is  not  right.  If  they  say  their 
name  is  Barnard,  you  must  call  them  so  until 
it  is  proved  that  they  have  no  right  to  the 
name." 

"That  is  what  Miss  Brown  said,"  remarked 
Lou  Dexter. 

"And  Miss  Brown  is  right.  Barnard  let  it 
be." 

As  Tom  Dexter  was  quite  a  leader  among 
the  boys  in  No.  5,  that  question  was  settled. 
And  it  soon  became  usual  to  hear  the  school- 
children call  out  "Annie  Barnard,"  or  "Sam 
Barnard ; "  and  very  soon  the  people  of  the 
neighborhood  fell  into  the  habit  of  using  the 
real  name  instead  of  the  nickname.  And  thus 


TRANSFORMED.  1 3 1 

Miss  Brown's  decided  command  upon  that  first 
day  of  school  was  helping  along  the  work  of 
transforming  the  Barneys  into  Barnards  and 
respectability. 

Weeks  went  by,  and  from  the  lowest  classes 
Reg  and  Sam  were  steadily  rising  to  the  higher. 
And,  while  they  studied  hard,  they  found  time 
for  some  other  things.  Their  father  was  now 
at  work  every  day ;  and  upon  the  boys  devolved 
many  little  duties  which  had  heretofore  been 
left  undone,  or,  if  they  could  not  be  wholly  neg- 
lected, done  in  a  shiftless  sort  of  a  way.  The 
swamp  lying  around  their  home  was  well  wooded, 
and  they  had  secured  from  the  owners  the  privi- 
lege of  getting  their  wood  from  the  decaying 
fallen  timber.  This  had  been  procured  only  as 
the  necessities  of  the  hour  demanded.  But  it 
occurred  to  Reg,  that  a  wood-pile  at  the  door 
seasoning  for  use  would  be  a  good  thing ;  and, 
twelve-year-old  boy  as  he  was,  with  a  little  as- 
sistance from  his  father  he  had  succeeded  in 
getting  quite  a  quantity  of  fuel  prepared  for 
use. 

The  house  stood   in    a   little    clearing   sum- 


132  TRANSFORMED. 

ciently  large  for  a  garden,  but  this  had  been 
suffered  to  lie  waste  for  want  of  energy  to  plant 
it.  But  that  spring  Barney  —  or  Mr.  Barnard  as 
we  must  learn  to  call  him  —  said  to  his  wife, — 

"  I  don't  know,  Molly,  but  we  might  manage 
a  bit  of  a  garden.  I  could  get  Dexter  to  plough 
it,  and  I  can  plant  it  if  the  boys  could  help 
about  the  weeding.  If  I  work  for  Dexter,  I 
shall  be  kept  pretty  busy  there."  And  the 
boys,  delighted  with  the  idea  of  a  garden, 
promised  to  keep  it  free  from  weeds. 

How  they  delighted  in  that  garden  !  From 
the  hour  when  Mr.  Dexter  came  with  his  strong 
horses,  and  turned  up  the  rich  mould  with  the 
shining  point  of  the  plough,  all  through  the 
consultations  as  to  what  should  be  planted, 
the  interest  increased. 

"  We  used  to  have  a  kind  of  bean  they  called 
kidney-bean,  down  in  Poppleton,"  said  Mrs. 
Barnard.  "I  wish  we  could  get  some  to  plant." 

"  I'll  ask  Dexter  about  some,"  replied  her 
husband.  "  Mrs.  Dexter  told  me  she  had  some 
garden-seeds  to  spare,  and  I'll  bring  them  along 
to-night." 


TRANSFORMED.  \  3  3 

"  I  saw  some  red  posies  running  up  before 
Mrs.  Dexter's  window  last  summer,"  said  Nan. 
"  Couldn't  we  have  some  ?  They'd  look  awful 
pretty  running  up  before  the  bedroom  window." 

Mrs.  Dexter  had  a  package  of  seeds  ready 
for  Mr.  Barnard,  and  a  smaller  package  which 
she  said  was  flower-seeds  for  the  children. 

"  Give  them  a  little  corner,"  she  suggested. 
"  It  will  encourage  them,  and  they  will  work  all 
the  better.  I  have  noticed  your  little  Nan  look- 
ing through  the  pickets  at  my  flowers,  and 
maybe  she  will  like  some  of  her  own." 

And  thus  it  came  about,  that  the  summer 
was  a  busy  one.  The  boys,  unused  to  garden- 
ing, made  some  blunders,  but  on  the  whole  they 
succeeded  admirably ;  and  Reg  was  proud  of 
his  early  radishes  and  beets  and  his  green  pease 
for  the  Fourth-of-July  dinner.  And  Nan  de- 
lighted in  the  bunches  of  flowers  which  she 
was  able  to  carry  to  Miss  Brown  now  and  then. 

The  partial  clearings  in  the  swamp  abounded 
in  blackberries  ;  and,  when  the  berry-season  ar- 
rived, there  was  talk  of  the  children  staying 
from  school  to  gather  the  berry-harvest.  It 


134  TRANSFORMED. 

had  been  their  custom  to  pick  berries  to  sell  in 
the  village  ;  and  Reg  said,  "  There  are  so  many 
this  year,  that  I  believe  we  could  earn  a  cow ! " 
A  cow  was  now  the  height  of  their  aspirations, 
so  far  as  worldly  possessions  went. 

But  Sam  had  a  scheme.  On  his  way  to  and 
from  school,  he  had  stopped  to  watch  Mrs. 
Dexter  at  work  in  her  strawberry-patch.  One 
day  Mrs.  Dexter,  seeing  his  interest,  re- 
marked, — 

"  You  might  have  a  strawberry -patch  just  as 
well  as  not.  That  sandy  knoll  just  back  of 
your  house  would  be  a  good  place  for  berries. 
I'll  give  you  the  plants  if  you  want  to  set  them 
out." 

Then  Sam  questioned  as  to  time  and  methods 
of  cultivation,  until  he  knew  it  all  by  heart. 

"  I  find  market  for  all  of  mine  in  the  village," 
said  Mrs.  Dexter ;  "  and  I  presume  you  could 
sell  all  you  could  raise.  They  could  go  right 
in  with  ours  at  first." 

And,  thus  encouraged,  Sam  grew  wild  to  try 
the  experiment.  The  knoll  was  of  no  use  to 
any  one.  The  owner  of  the  place  charged  only 


TRANSFORMED.  1 3  5 

a  nominal  rent  for  the  wretched  hovel  and  the 
little  clearing  around  it.  The  place  had  for- 
merly been  occupied  by  the  sawyer  at  the  mill 
half  a  mile  farther  on,  but  afterwards  a  better 
house  had  been  erected  nearer  the  mill. 

It  required  some  little  persuasion  on  Sam's 
part  to  make  his  father  see  his  scheme  in  the 
light  in  which  it  appeared  to  the  two  boys  ;  but 
he  finally  said  it  wouldn't  cost  nothing  more'n 
their  own  work,  and  they  could  go  into  it  if 
they  wanted  to.  It  required  some  little  ma- 
noeuvring on  Sam's  part  to  get  the  ground 
properly  prepared  for  the  setting  of  the  plants, 
and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Mrs.  Dexter 
had  something  to  do  with  it.  Anyway,  it  was 
Mr.  Dexter's  strong  horses  which  Mr.  Barnard 
drove  home  one  evening  an  hour  before  work- 
ing-hours were  over,  at  Mr.  Dexter's  own  sug- 
gestion. 

"  You  might  as  well  go  now,  and  plough  that 
bit  of  ground  for  the  boys,"  he  said  :  "  there's 
no  telling  what  may  come  of  it." 

Mr.  Dexter  remembered  that  remark  after- 
wards ;  and  it  stirred  him  to  other  kindly 


136  TRANSFORMED. 

deeds,    "not    knowing  what    might    come    of 
them." 

It  was  only  a  little  bit  of  ground,  and  a  few 
tiny  plants  stuck  into  the  pulverized  soil  at  reg- 
ular intervals  ;  and  yet  it  represented  to  the 
boys*  Reg  and  Sam*  the  coveted  cow. 


TRANSFORMED.  j  j  7 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"  Ask  counsel  of  God." 

IN  their  daily  Bible-readings  they  read  much 
that  was  a  mystery  to  them,  but  now  and  then 
they  came  upon  passages  which  stood  out  with 
wonderful  clearness.  One  evening  Barney  read 
slowly  and  with  difficulty,  —  for  he  was  at  best 
but  a  poor  reader, — "And  of  all  that  Thou 
shalt  give  me,  I  will  surely  give  the  tenth  unto 
thee." 

"  One-tenth  unto  thee  \ "  he  repeated,  — 
*'  that  is,  unto  the  Lord.  But  what  does  it 
mean  ?  Molly,  what  do  you  suppose  it  means  ? " 

"I'm  sure  I  do  not  know,  unless —  Why, 
Thomas,  when  you  husk  corn  or  dig  potatoes 
for  Dexter,  you  get  one  bushel  out  of  every 
ten,  don't  ye  ?  And  I  s'pose  that's  what  it 
means." 


1 38  TRANSFORMED. 

"Yes,  but  giving  it  to  the  Lord,  —  what's 
that  ?  The  Lord  ain't  here.  How  be  we  going 
to  give  it  to  him  ?  That's  what  I  want  to 
know." 

For  days  they  studied  over  this  simple  ques- 
tion in  Christian  ethics.  "One-tenth,"  that 
they  understood  ;  but  what  to  do  with  it  ?  Un- 
derstanding, they  meant  to  follow  the  example 
set  by  one  of  old,  just  as  soon  as  they  found 
out  how  it  was  to  be  done. 

There  came  a  sabbath  when  the  pastor  chose 
for  his  text  the  passage,  "  Bring  ye  all  the 
tithes  into  the  storehouse." 

Nothing  could  have  been  farther  from  the 
thought  of  Mr.  Manning  than  the  idea  of  bene- 
fiting the  Barneys  by  that  sermon.  He  had 
preached  to  them  sabbath  after  sabbath,  shoot- 
ing as  wide  of  the  mark  sometimes  as  it  was 
possible  to  do  ;  but  that  particular  sermon  had 
been  studied  with  a  view  to  reaching  certain 
members  of  the  Waltham  church  who  were 
somewhat  niggardly  in  their  gifts.  But  He 
who  is  responsible  for  the  results  of  all  sincere 
effort  put  forth  in  his  name,  had  other  thoughts 


TRA  NSFORMED.  \  39 

of  that  sermon.  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
effect  upon  those  for  whom  it  was  designed,  it 
certainly  enlightened  two  ignorant  people. 
Thomas  Barnard  and  his  wife  learned  what  giv- 
ing to  the  Lord  meant ;  they  found  out  that  for 
them  it  meant  giving  of  their  earnings  for  the 
support  of  the  gospel,  that  it  meant  contributing 
for  home  and  foreign  missions  ;  and  although 
the  pastor  did  not  lay  any  stress  upon  setting 
aside  one-tenth  of  the  income,  they  had  already 
decided  that  this  was  the  right  thing  for  them 
to  do,  and  they  did  not  notice  the  omission. 
Indeed,  so  simple  were  they,  that  they  supposed 
that  every  Christian  did  that  ;  and  their  only 
puzzle  had  been,  what  to  do  with  it  after  it  was 
laid  aside.  Indeed,  they  had  already  begun  to 
lay  away  the  small  silver  coins. 

It  would  have  been  amusing  to  hear  the  cal- 
culations that  went  on  beneath  that  lowly  roof. 
I  do  not  believe  that  there  was  ever  such  a 
novel  class  in  fractions  elsewhere,  as  that  one 
made  up  of  father,  mother,  and  the  two  older 
boys.  How  they  puzzled  over  the  fractional 
parts  of  small  sums !  One-tenth  of  a  dollar 


140  TRANSFORMED. 

they  could  easily  get  at,  but  one-tenth  of  sixty, 
three  cents  was  a  problem  almost  beyond  their 
solving.  It  was  no  satin-lined  box  or  inlaid 
casket  which  held  the  precious  five  and  ten  cent 
pieces :  they  had  not  thought  of  any  thing 
better  than  just  to  tie  them  up  in  a  rag,  and 
hide  them  in  the  straw  mattress. 

Thomas  Barnard  had  few  cronies,  but  some- 
times in  the  summer  he  would  go  off  for  a  day's 
fishing  in  the  lake  a  few  miles  distant ;  and 
these  excursions  had  always  been  taken  on  the 
sabbath,  because  the  neighbor  whom  he  accom- 
panied worked  with  his  team  on  week-days.  As 
the  summer  wore  on,  this  neighbor  hailed  him 
one  Friday  evening,  as  he  went  home  from  his 
work,  with,  — 

"  Say,  Barney  !  If  it's  fine  Sunday,  suppose 
we  take  the  day  at  the  lake." 

"  All  right." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ? "  said  neighbor  Filkins 
with  a  little  surprise  in  his  tones. 

"  Mean  it !     Yes  ;  why  not  ? " 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know  but  you  had  got  too  pious 
for  that !  You've  been  going  to  meeting  so 


TRANSFORMED.  141 

much  lately,  and  one  of  my  young  ones  says 
you  have  prayers  at  your  house  now :  with  so 
much  Bible-reading  I  didn't  know  but  you'd  cut 
an  old  crony." 

"  I  guess  not :  I  haven't  found  any  thing  in 
the  Bible  about  going  to  the  lake  with  an  old 
friend." 

"But  on  Sunday?" 

"  I  guess  not." 

"  Not  ? "  said  Filkins.  "Why,  I  thought  the 
Good  Book  was  very  strong  on  that  point ! 
But  you  ought  to  know.  Well,  if  it's  clear  I'll 
be  along  early." 

"All  right." 

"Well,  now,  that's  queer,"  mused  Filkins  as 
his  friend  walked  away.  "  I  did  think  the  fel- 
low had  got  religion  ;  but  after  all,  I  don't  see 
as  he  is  any  better  than  the  rest  of  us.  Noth- 
ing in  his  Bible  against  going  fishing  on  Sunday, 
—  ha,  ha!  My  old  woman,  wouldn't  agree  with 
him  :  she  says  it  is  an  awful  sin.  Guess  Bar- 
ney has  a  different  Bible  from  the  rest  of  the 
world." 

As  for  Thomas  Barnard,  he  asked  his  wife, 


142  TRANSFORMED. 

the  first  thing  when  he  reached  home,  if  the 
Bible  said  any  thing  about  going  to  the  lake  on 
Sunday,  and  if  she  thought  there  would  be  any 
harm  in  going. 

"  You  see,  we  fellows  work  hard  all  the  week, 
and  Sunday  is  the  only  time  we  have.  The 
Book  speaks  of  Sunday  as  a  day  of  rest,  not 
doing  any  work  ;  and  that  is  what  we  are  going 
for,  —  to  kinder  rest  up,  and  have  a  bit  of 
pleasure." 

Molly  shook  her  head.  "  I  dunno,"  she  said. 
"  As  you  say,  it  is  about  work ;  but  I  dunno,  I 
am  afeard  it  ain't  right.  I  think  I'd  stay  to 
hum  until  I  found  out  about  it  for  sure." 

The  next  sabbath  proved  unfair,  and  the  ex- 
cursion was  postponed  another  week.  Mean- 
time Molly  searched  diligently  for  light  upon 
the  important  question.  They  had  read  far 
enough  to  find  out  that  the  sabbath  was  ap- 
pointed for  a  day  of  rest  from  worldly  pursuits  ; 
but  they  could  not  quite  see  how  that  would 
forbid  a  ride  of  half  a  dozen  miles  with  a  friend, 
a  sail  upon  the  lake,  and  a  little  fishing  for 
pleasure.  Though  Molly  said, — 


TRANSFORMED.  143 

"You  know,  Thomas,  you  always  say  that 
you  are  more  tired  than  as  if  you  had  been 
ploughing  greensward.  That  don't  sound  much 
as  if  you  made  it  a  day  of  rest." 

"That's  a  fact,"  returned  the  perplexed  man. 

However,  as  the  week  drew  near  the  end, 
Molly  poring  over  the  Bible  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, — 

"Here  it  is,  —  the  verse  that  fits!  I  knew 
there  must  be  one."  And  she  read  out, — 

"  '  If  thou  turn  away  thy  foot  from  the  sab- 
bath, from  doing  thy  pleasure  on  my  holy  day  ; 
and  call  the  sabbath  a  delight,  the  holy  of  the 
Lord,  honorable ;  and  shalt  honor  him,  not 
doing  thine  own  ways,  nor  finding  thine  own 
pleasure,  nor  speaking  thine  own  words ; 

"'Then  shalt  thou  delight  thyself  in  the 
Lord  ,  and  I  will  cause  thee  to  ride  upon  the 
high  places  of  the  earth,  and  feed  thee  with 
the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy  father :  for  the  mouth 
of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it.' 

"  There  !  and  there  is  a  promise  hitched  on 
to  it  besides.  I  guess  that  settles  it." 

And  when  her  husband  came  in,  she  showed 


144  TRANSFORMED. 

him  what  she  had  found  :  "  Listen  :  it  says,  '  not 
doing  thine  own  ways,  nor  finding  thine  own 
pleasure,  nor  speaking  thine  own  words.'  I 
reckon,  if  you  went  to  the  lake  with  Filkins, 
you'd  speak  a  good  many  of  your  own  words  ; 
and  some  of  the  pleasure  he'd  be  looking  out 
for  wouldn't  be  the  sort  for  any  day,  let  alone 
Sunday." 

"  Thet's  so.  But,  Molly,  I  don't  see  how  I 
am  going  to  get  out  of  it :  I've  as  good  as 
promised,  you  know." 

"But  you  can  tell  him  we've  found  out  it 
is  forbidden,  and  that  ought  to  be  enough.  If 
you's  going  to  do  suthin'  contrary  to  the  law, 
and  then  you'd  'a'  found  out  'twas,  after  you'd 
planned  it,  it  would  be  enough  to  say  you'd 
found  out  so.  And  if  you  have  jist  found  that 
going  fishing  on  Sunday  is  contrary  to  the  law 
of  God,  why,  'tain't  too  late  to  back  down. 
Filkins  has  got  sense." 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  the  best  way  will  be  to  go 
over  there,  and  tell  him  I  can't  go."  And 
Thomas  Barnard  seized  his  hat,  and  went  over 
to  break  his  engagement. 


TRANSFORMED.  145 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  Molly  has  been  hunting 
up  the  law  on  this  'ere  question,  and  she's  found 
out  that  if  a  man  goes  in  to  serve  the  Lord 
he  hain't  no  call  to  break  the  sabbath  for  his 
own  pleasure :  so,  neighbor,  I  hope  there  won't 
be  no  hard  feelings  if  I  don't  go  with  you." 

"  There !  "  said  Mrs.  Filkins.  "  I  am  power- 
ful glad  you've  said  that.  I  have  been  argying 
with  John ;  but  he  said  you  was  a  Bible  man 
nowadays,  and  you  didn't  see  no  harm  in  it, 
and  I  felt  e'en  a'most  discouraged.  But  what 
you've  said  gives  me  courage  agin  to  go  on 
argying." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Filkins,  "  I  don't  see  any 
difference  between  some  of  them  church-mem- 
bers down  there  in  the  village  taking  walks  and 
rides  on  Sunday  afternoon,  and  me  a-going  off 
for  a  little  drive  and  a  bit  of  a  sail." 

"Now,  John,"  replied  his  wife,  "the  Lord 
never  told  you  that  you  was  to  follow  any 
church-member.  He  said,  'Follow  me.'  He 
did  tell  his  disciples  to  let  their  light  shine  so 
that  men  may  see ;  but  if  they  don't  do  it,  why, 
there's  a  bigger  light  than  all  the  church-mem- 


146  TRANSFORMED. 

bers  put  together  can  make,  and  you  and  I  can 
walk  by  that." 

"  Well,  if  Barney  here  won't  go,  I  shall  give 
it  up.  Maybe  I'll  hitch  up  the  team,  and  take 
you  and  the  children  to  church  :  I  want  to  be 
as  good  as  my  neighbors !  " 

The  question  of  sabbath  recreations  was  not 
the  only  puzzling  one  that  came  up  for  decision 
during  those  first  few  months  of  Christian  ser- 
vice. For  years  Thomas  Barnard  had  never 
failed  to  make  one  of  the  crowd  gathering  in- 
side the  great  tent  pitched  outside  the  village 
upon  the  annual  visit  of  the  circus ;  and  often 
the  whole  family  went,  and  great  was  the  dis- 
appointment if  any  thing  happened  to  prevent 
their  going.  It  was  the  one  holiday  of  the  year, 
and  planned  for  long  beforehand.  Though  their 
food  might  be  more  scanty  than  usual  for  weeks, 
they  must  save  money  enough  for  their  en- 
trance-tickets ;  even  the  quantity  of  whiskey 
was  sometimes  lessened  for  the  same  purpose  : 
so  you  see  how  important  a  matter  it  had  been 
to  the  Barneys. 

The  time  had   again  come  around  ;  and,  as 


TRANSFORMED.  147 

usual,  the  flaming  show-bills  with  their  vulgar 
representations — often  indecent  as  well  as  low 
and  vulgar  —  were  posted  in  every  available 
public  place.  Reg  came  home  one  night  with 
the  joyful  news  that  the  bills  were  up,  and  the 
show  was  to  be  along  on  the  twenty-fifth. 

"  We  can  all  go,  can't  we  ? "  he  said. 

Mr.  Barnard  looked  at  his  wife  :  she  seemed 
puzzled. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "as  we  ought:  I 
never  saw  church-folks  there  much." 

"  I  have  seen  the  Prestons  and  the  Parkers 
there  times  and  times,"  said  her  husband;  "and 
once  I  saw  the  minister  from  Bannersville. 
But  —  do  you  think  she  would  go?" 

"I  don't  know:  it  kinder  seems  as  if  she 
would  be  out  of  place  there,  among  the  sort 
of  folks  that  goes  mostly ;  and  I  don't  believe 
she  would  like  to  let  her  pretty  eyes  rest  upon 
some  of  them  women  and  clowns  that  per- 
forms." 

"  She'd  let  her  eyes,  and  her  hands  too,  rest 
on  them  quick  enough  if  she  could  help  them 
any,"  returned  Thomas.  "  They  ain't  any 


148  TRANSFORMED. 

worse  than  we  were  when  she  stepped  her 
dainty  feet  into  this  old  shanty." 

"  Some  way  I  don't  care  much  about  going," 
said  Molly;  "but  if  it  is  right,  and  you  and  the 
boys  want  to  go,  why,  you  can  go,  and  take 
them.  I'll  keep  Huey  and  the  girls  at  home. 
I  don't  just  want  my  little  girls  to  go  into  any 
place  that  wouldn't  be  clean  and  pure  enough 
for  Miss  Kingsley." 

"  I  don't  s'pose  there's  any  thing  in  the  Bible 
about  circuses,  is  there  ?"  said  her  husband. 

"  I  don't  s'pose  there  is.  Still  there  ought 
to  be  something  to  tell  us  what  to  do." 

"  I  found  a  verse  to-day  that  tells  what  to  do 
when  one  does  not  know,"  said  Molly,  going 
after  the  Bible.  "  Here  it  is  :  '  If  any  man  lack 
wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God.'  But  I  can't  help 
wondering  how  he  will  tell  us  unless  we  find  it 
written  down  here." 

"We  know  a  good  many  things  that  we 
didn't  use  to  know,  and  I  guess  he  can  teach 
us  what  we  need  to  know  about  going  to  the 
circus." 

As  the  days  went  on,  there  was  very  little 


TRANSFORMED.  149 

talk  about  the  matter  ;  only  Thomas  never  for- 
got to  ask  for  wisdom,  and  Molly  continued  her 
search  for  a  verse  that  would  fit.  She  had  al- 
ready decided  not  to  go  :  Sam  was  the  next  one 
to  say,  — 

"  I  don't  want  to  go.  I  do  not  think  I  should 
be  happy  there  ;  anyway,  I  should  not  learn  any 
good."  Evidently  he  had  received  wisdom. 

A  day  or  two  before  the  twenty-fifth,  Reg 
remarked,  — 

"  Miss  Brown  don't  believe  in  circuses,  and 
she  says  she  hopes  none  of  us  scholars  will  go  ; 
and  I  told  her  I  wouldn't  ;  and  then  Tom  Dex- 
ter said  if  I  didn't,  he  didn't  believe  he  would. 
And  Miss  Brown  said,  'There,  Reg,  you  see 
that  we  are  none  of  us  too  young  to  exert  an 
influence.'  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  have  a 
big  injltience  when  I  am  a  man,  and  I  told  her 
so ;  and  she  said  she  hoped  it  would  be  a  good 
one." 

As  for  the  head  of  the  household,  the  impor- 
tance of  the  circus  diminished ;  and  the  day 
before  the  performance  he  said,  "  Well,  I  have 
not  found  any  thing  in  the  Good  Book  that 


150  TRANSFORMED. 

throws  any  particular  light  upon  the  question. 
But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  whole  thing  is  set 
up  opposite  the  Bible  :  the  two  things  don't 
seem  to  fit." 

During  that  summer,  Mr.  Barnard  made  many 
little  improvements  about  the  shanty,  working 
after  hours.  But  one  day  it  occurred  to  him, 
that,  as  he  did  not  own  the  property,  he  might 
be  turned  out  any  time,  and  all  his  labor  go  for 
naught  so  far  as  his  comfort  and  that  of  his 
family  were  concerned  ;  and  there  came  into  his 
mind  the  idea  of  investing  in  real  estate  !  He 
actually  laughed  as  the  thought  came  to  him  ; 
but  the  idea  grew,  and  assumed  such  propor- 
tions that  he  mentioned  it  to  Molly,  and  soon 
after  went  to  his  landlord  with  a  proposition. 
He  wanted  to  buy  the  shanty  and  two  or  three 
acres  of  land,  and  pay  for  it  in  instalments.  A 
bargain  was  made,  and  the  legal  transfer  made ; 
and " "  Old  Barney "  became  the  owner  of  a 
homestead. 

As  the  lawyer  —  who  was  no  other  than  our 
friend  Fred  Gray — was  drawing  the  papers,  he 
asked,  — 


TRANSFORMED.  151 

"  Your  name  is  ? " 

"Thomas  Barnard." 

"  What  ?  Barnard  ?  not  Barney  ? " 

"Not  much!  You  see,  I  was  sunk  pretty 
low ;  and  people  took  liberties  with  my  name, 
and  I  hadn't  pride  enough  to  resent  it.  But 
my  name  is  Thomas  Barnard ;  and  I  s'pose,  to 
have  the  thing  legal,  it  will  have  to  go  down 
that  way.  And  my  young  ones  are  going  to  be 
called  by  the  name  that  belongs  to  them." 


1 5  2  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

"Take  heed  to  yourselves,  and  bear  no  burden  on  the  sabbath 
day." 

FREDERIC  GRAY  had  fully  determined  that 
before  parting  from  Marian  Kingsley  in  New 
York,  on  their  way  from  the  South,  he  would 
ask  her  to  become  his  wife.  But  alas  for  his 
plans !  A  telegram  summoned  him  home  a 
day  sooner  than  he  intended  to  go,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  without  finding  an  opportunity 
to  see  Marian  alone.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray  had 
gone  on  a  few  days  earlier,  leaving  Cora  Butler 
the  guest  of  Marian's  cousin,  and  she  was  to 
have  accompanied  Fred  home  ;  but,  as  he  took 
a  Sunday-night  train  after  receiving  the  de- 
spatch, that  young  lady  refused  to  go. 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much  myself,"  she 
said,  "but  mamma  would  be  shocked  Of 


TRANSFORMED.  1 5  3 

course  it  is  different  with  Fred  :  he  feels  that 
he  is  obliged  to  go  on  at  once.  But  there  is 
no  necessity  for  my  breaking  the  sabbath." 

"Then,  you  think  it  is  necessary  to  break  the 
sabbath  sometimes  ?  "  said  Marian. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  what  you  call  it ;  but  it 
is  necessary  that  Mr.  Gray  should  be  in  Wal- 
tham  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I  confess,"  said  Marian,  "  that  I  am  so 
stupid  as  to  be  unable  to  see  why  it  is  any 
more  excusable  for  Mr.  Gray  to  break  the  sab- 
bath than  it  would  be  for  you." 

"  But,  Marian,  this  is  a  business  necessity. 
My  client's  interests,  which  I  am  bound  to  pro- 
tect, demand  the  sacrifice  of  my  own  inclina- 
tions." 

"  And  of  principle  too  ? "  asked  Marian. 

"Now,  Marian,  it  is  all  very  well  to  take 
high  ground  when  you  can,  but  one  has  to 
meet  the  exigencies  of  business  on  a  lower 
plane  :  we  are  told  to  be  diligent  in  business, 
as  I  have  reminded  you  before  now." 

"'Serving  the  Lord,'"  added  Marian;  "don't 
forget  that  part.  If  we  set  out  to  serve  him, 


1 5  4  TRANSFORMED. 

we  have  no  right  to  pick  out  certain  commands, 
and  say,  'It  is  not  convenient  for  me  to  do  this 
thing.'  God  said,  '  Ye  shall  keep  my  sabbaths, 
and  reverence  my  sanctuary  ;  I  am  the  Lord.' 
And  so  long  as  that  people  to  whom  the  com- 
mand was  first  given  obeyed,  they  had  pros- 
perity ;  but  whenever  they  began  to  desecrate 
the  sabbath,  they  fell  into  gross  sin  and  idola- 
try. The  fifth  commandment  has  been  called 
the  commandment  with  a  promise  ;  but  God 
often  repeated  the  fourth,  and  added  a  promise. 
And,  Fred,  I  fully  believe  that  a  man's  tem- 
poral prosperity  depends  upon  how  he  sancti- 
fies his  sabbaths." 

"  O  Marian  !  "  exclaimed  Cora,  "  I  wouldn't 
like  to  believe  that." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  should  not  dare  to  speak,  or 
think  my  own  thoughts,  on  the  sabbath." 

"That  is  just  what  you  are  commanded  not 
to  do,"  returned  Marian. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ? "  asked  Fred. 

"  Isaiah  says  we  are  not  to  speak  our  own 
words :  that  amounts  to  the  same  thing,"  re- 
turned Marian. 


TRA  NSFORMED.  1 5  5 

"  You've  studied  it  up  more  than  I  have," 
returned  Cora.  "I  shall  be  in  a  state  of  tor- 
ment hereafter,  for  fear  of  breaking  the  sab- 
bath by  some  originality." 

"Marian,  you  would  make  the  sabbath  a 
gloomy  day,  and  so  hem  us  in  by  rules  and 
regulations  and  prohibitions  as  to  make  us  feel 
that  we  have  no  right  to  exist,"  said  Fred. 

"  Indeed  I  would  not !  I  would  make  it  the 
brightest  and  most  cheerful  day  of  all  the 
week.  I  would  have  every  thought  of  care 
thrown  to  the  winds.  I  would  not  have  a  sin- 
gle thought  of  business  intruding.  I  believe 
that  a  Christian  has  no  right  to  bring  business 
over  into  holy  hours." 

"  But  if  one's  business  is  perplexing,  how 
can  he  help  letting  thoughts  of  it  intrude  ?  " 

"  You  might  as  well  ask,  If  one  is  hungry, 
how  can  he  help  stealing?  So  far  as  I  know, 
there  is  no  excuse  for  sinning,  in  all  the  Bible. 
It  may  be  hard  to  throw  aside  the  burden  of 
business  cares  ;  but,  because  obedience  is  hard, 
one  is  not  excused  for  disobeying." 

"I  do* not  understand  you.     Do  you  mean  to 


1 56  TRANSFORMED. 

say  that  you  think  of  it  as  a  disobedience,  to 
carry  a  heavy  load  of  care  and  anxiety  through 
the  sabbath  ?  Even  if  it  be  wrong  to  plan  and 
calculate,  it  is  not  easy  to  help  carrying  a  sad 
heart  when  the  prospects  are  dark." 

"  Not  easy,  perhaps ;  but  we  have  the  com- 
mand, '  Carry  no  burden  on  the  sabbath  day.' 
And  I  am  sure  there  is  no  burden  like  a  load 
of  care  :  it  is  sometimes  heavier  than  that  of 
a  hod-carrier.  And  you  know  this  principle  is 
recognized  by  our  law-makers.  A  man  is  as 
free  from  molestation  from  his  creditors  during 
holy  time  as  though  he  lived  in  the  moon." 

"  I  declare,  Marian,"  said  Cora,  "you  do  pin 
every  thing  down  so  close !  I  wouldn't  study 
up  subjects  as  you  do,  for  any  thing.  It  is  so 
hard  to  slip  along  easy,  after  a  thorough  inves- 
tigation of  a  subject.  I  am  glad  I  have  not  an 
inquiring  mind." 

"  I  do  not  see  as  that  helps  any :  whether 
you  investigate  or  not,  the  facts  remain  the 
same,  and  you  are  responsible.  God  has  given 
us  six  days  for  our  work  and  business,  and  set 
apart  the  seventh  for  his  own  worship  ;  and 


TRA  NS FORMED.  1 5  7 

though  it  serves  us  as  well  in  giving  us  rest,  it 
is  nevertheless  the  Lord's  own."  - 

"  But,  Marian,  I  went  to  church  this  morn- 
ing, and  to  Sunday  school,  and  I  am  not  going 
to  take  the  train  until  eight  o'clock." 

"Who  gave  you  a  right  to  clip  the  sabbath 
at  either  end  ?  I  cannot  help  thinking  that 
time  saved  in  that  way  will  be  lost  twice  over 
before  the  week  ends." 

"  Well,  Marian,"  said  Fred  with  a  little  sneer, 
"you  object  to  my  travelling  on  Sunday,  but 
you  are  very  willing  to  profit  by  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  asked,  won- 
dering. 

"  Why,  you  hold  stock  in  the  very  road  I  am 
going  over." 

Marian  was  as  if  thunderstruck  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  she  said,  "  Mr.  Gray,  I  did  not 
know  it  :  at  least,  if  I  ever  knew,  I  had  forgot- 
ten. My  guardian,  as  you  know,  has  always 
attended  to  all  business  matters ;  but  I  shall 
look  into  this.  Thank  you  for  reminding  me. 
I  assure  you  I  shall  not  profit  by  sabbath- 
breaking  in  future.  If  any  money  of  mine  is 


1 5  8  TRANSFORMED. 

invested  in  any  of  these  sabbath-desecrating 
enterprises,  I  shall  take  measures  to  withdraw 
it  at  once." 

Mr.  Gray  saw  that  he  had  been  making 
trouble  for  his  brother,  and  endeavored  to  undo 
what  his  taunt  had  done.  But  Marian  saw  at 
once  the  inconsistency  of  her  position,  and  de- 
clared that  though  it  might  be  at  a  sacrifice 
she  would  sell  her  stock. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  I  understand  that 
my  little  fortune  is  as  nothing  to  these  vast 
enterprises,  and  my  influence  is  small ;  but, 
such  as  it  is,  it  shall  be  on  the  side  of  the 
sabbath." 

"  But,  Marian,  can't  you  see  that  it  is  neces- 
sary to  run  Sunday  trains  ?  " 

"Indeed,  I  may  be  very  stupid,  but  I  cannot 
see  any  thing  of  the  sort.  The  Author  of  the 
Fourth  Commandment  must  have  foreseen 
the  emergencies  of  the  present  day,  but  I  cannot 
find  that  he  provided  for  the  running  of  Sun- 
day trains ;  and  I  am  forced  to  conclude  that  in 
his  wisdom  and  far-seeing  power  he  did  not  con- 
sider that  it  would  ever  become  a  necessity." 


TRA  NSFORMED.  1 5  9 

"  Suppose,"  said  Cora,  "  that  a  dear  friend, 
one  who  was  dearer  than  your  own  life,  lay  at 
the  point  of  death,  and  that  by  travelling  upon 
the  sabbath  you  could  reach  that  sick  friend  in 
time  to  receive  the  last  farewell :  would  you 
refuse  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  how  could  I  be  assured 
that  it  was  necessary  ?  He  who  gave  the 
Fourth  Commandment  holds  life  in  his  hand, 
and  could  as  easily  prolong  the  life  of  my 
friend  beyond  the  sabbath  as  for  the  hours 
which  in  any  event  must  pass  before  I  could 
reach  the  place.  And  if  it  should  not  be  his 
will  that  I  should  be  in  time,  would  it  be 
harder  to  say,  'Thy  will  be  done,'  because  I 
had  obeyed  ? " 

"  But  you  would  drive  a  long  distance  in  case 
of  illness  ? "  said  Fred. 

"  True,  I  might ;  but  in  that  case  I  should 
not  be  accessory  to  a  great  evil.  My  driving 
along  the  road  would  not  necessitate  the  sab- 
bath labor  of  a  great  number  of  people.  I  do 
not  believe  in  making  a  slight  illness  the  ex- 
cuse for  a  Sunday  drive ;  nor,  indeed,  a  serious 


1 60  TRA  NSFORMED. 

illness,  if  I  could  have  gone  on  Saturday.  The 
works  of  necessity  and  mercy  will  never  turn 
the  sabbath  into  one  great  work-day  and  holi- 
day combined.  There  is,  as  I  look  at  rea- 
son, a  great  deal  of  false  reasoning  in  the 
world,  even  among  Christians,  upon  this  very 
subject." 

"  Marian  Kingsley,  you  are  a  bit  of  a  fa- 
natic ! "  said  Cora. 

"  Am  I  ?  What  is  a  fanatic  ?  "  Cora  laughed, 
and  did  not  reply  ;  and  she  repeated  the  ques- 
tion, "  What  is  a  fanatic  ?  "  and  Fred  replied,  — 

"  Why,  one  who  takes  extreme  views  of 
things." 

"  What  are  extreme  views  ? " 

"Well,  unreasonable  views." 

"Ah  !     Is  the  Bible  unreasonable?" 

Fred  laughed.  "  Dear  me,  how  you  corner 
one !  I  really  must  say  good-night  and  good- 
by." 

Then,  as  Cora  left  them  for  a  moment  to 
bring  a  package  to  send  to  her  sister,  Fred 
whispered,  — 

"  Marian,  I  had  something  to  say  to  you,  — 


TRANSFORMED.  l6l 

something  which  I  hope  you  may  want  to  hear ; 
but  this  sudden  call  gives  me  no  time.  Don't 
look  so  sober,  little  girl :  I  shall  come  back  to 
you  soon." 

Marian  went  up  to  her  room  after  he  went 
away,  with  her  thoughts  all  in  a  whirl.  She 
could  guess  what  he  wanted  to  say.  Did  she 
want  to  hear  it  ?  Had  she  given  him  reason  to 
suppose  she  would  listen  ?  Did  he  think  her 
sober  face  was  altogether  because  of  grief  at 
parting  with  him  for  a  short  time  ?  True,  she 
hated  to  have  him  go ;  she  would  miss  him  ; 
she  had  grown  to  depend  upon  him,  as  well  as 
to  enjoy  his  society.  Yet  at  that  moment  when 
he  had  spoken  of  her  sober  face,  she  was  think- 
ing of  his  infringement  of  the  sabbath,  and 
realizing  that  he  was  not  doing  violence  to  his 
conscience ;  he  honestly  believed  that  his  course 
was  justifiable,  and  Marian  mourned  that  he 
had  not  reached  higher  ground.  She  mourned, 
and  excused  him  to  herself,  saying,  "  He  has 
not  been  educated  up  to  a  strict  observance  of 
the  sabbath  :  as  he  gets  more  light,  he  will  look 
at  the  matter  differently." 


1 62  TRANSFORMED. 

And  then  she  remembered  his  mother :  cer- 
tainly her  views  upon  the  sabbath  question 
were  as  strict  as  Marian's  own.  And  his 
brother,  her  guardian,  had  followed  the  teach- 
ings of  that  mother.  No,  she  could  not  lay  it 
to  his  early  training.  Evidently  he  had  been 
educating  himself  downward !  Still  Marian's 
heart  excused  him.  While  in  college,  he  had 
probably  grown  lax ;  but  now  that  she  had  ex- 
pressed her  views  so  plainly,  he  would  be  led 
to  think  the  subject  over,  and  would  be  likely 
to  see  his  mistake.  And  then  her  thoughts 
would  go  back  to  his  last  words  to  her.  Did  he 
mean  any  thing?  and  did  she  want  him  to  mean 
any  thing  ?  She  was  forced  to  confess  to  her- 
self that  there  had  been  a  time,  not  many 
months  ago,  when  she  had  named  her  ideal, 
Frederic  Gray ;  but  now,  since  she  had  come  to 
know  Fred  better,  she  knew  that  she  must 
name  her  ideal  over,  or  else  lower  that  ideal. 
And  this  last  she  was  not  ready  to  do. 

During  the  weeks  that  passed  before  they 
met  again,  Marian  had  plenty  of  time  to  study 
the  subject ;  but  it  was  not  easy  to  arrive  at 


TRANSFORMED.  163 

conclusions.  Gradually  she  came  to  think  that 
she  had  imagined  his  words  to  mean  more  than 
he  had  intended  to  convey.  As  he  did  not 
write  to  her,  she  concluded,  that,  whatever  it 
might  be  that  he  had  meant  to  say,  he  had 
probably  either  forgotten  it  or  changed  his  mind. 
But  when,  two  months  later,  he  was  able  to 
leave  his  business  and  join  her  at  her  cousin's 
cottage  by  the  sea,  she  knew  in  that  first  hour 
of  his  coming  that  he  had  not  forgotten. 

He  arrived  late  Saturday  evening,  too  late 
for  more  than  a  very  brief  call.  He  accompa- 
nied her  to  the  sabbath-morning  service  in  the 
little  chapel,  and  later  went  with  her  to  Sunday 
school  where  she  was  a  teacher.  At  the  invita- 
tion of  the  superintendent,  he  gave  the  children 
a  little  talk  :  it  was  so  sweet  and  tender,  so 
persuasive,  that  Marian  was  more  ready  than 
ever  to  excuse  his  inconsistencies.  But  during 
the  afternoon  something  occurred  which  tried 
her  very  much.  There  was  an  accident  at  the 
beach,  and  Mr.  Gray  hastened  down  to  learn 
the  particulars.  He  stopped  at  the  door  of 
Mrs.  Leigh's  cottage,  as  he  came  back,  to  tell 


1 64  TRANSFORMED. 

them  the  news :  a  child  had  been  drowned. 
And  he  said  to  Marian,  in  a  low  tone, — 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  go  to  church  with  you 
this  evening,  but  will  get  around  to  the  door  to 
walk  home  with  you.  I  must  get  an  account 
of  this  affair  ready  for  the  morning  paper,  and 
send  it  off  by  the  nine-o'clock  train." 

"To-night!" 

"  Why,  yes  ;  why  not  ? " 

Marian  did  not  feel  like  entering  into  a  use- 
less argument,  so  she  made  no  reply  to  this  ; 
and  the  young  man,  not  satisfied,  said,  — 

"  You  don't  disapprove  of  that,  do  you  ? " 

Thus  urged  for  a  reply,  she  said,  — 

"  It  does  seem  rather  a  strange  thing  to  do, 
doesn't  it  ? " 

"  It  does  not  seem  strange  to  me.  What 
would  a  fellow  do  ?  I  am  bound,  as  a  faithful 
correspondent,  to  send  the  latest  news ;  and,  in 
order  to  get  into  the  morning  issue,  the  item 
must  go  to-night." 

"Who  will  be  benefited  by  its  getting  into 
the  morning  papers  ? " 

"That  is  not  my  business.  I  am  only  re- 
sponsible for  my  part." 


TRANSFORMED.  165 

"  True,  it  is  not  a  fair  question  in  this  con- 
nection. Even  if  we  were  sure  that  a  score  of 
people  would  be  interested  and  apparently  bene- 
fited by  the  knowledge  that  a  little  child  had 
been  taken  home,  that  fact  would  not  affect  the 
question  whether  or  not  it  is  right  to  use  the 
sabbath  for  secular  concerns.  Of  course,  when 
we  feel  sure  that  the  affairs  will  have  an  impor- 
tant bearing  upon  the  happiness  or  misery  of 
other  people,  there  seems  to  be  an  excuse ;  but 
I  do  not  suppose  it  really  matters  to  anybody 
in  the  wide  world,  whether  the  accident  is 
chronicled  in  the  morning  issue  or  in  the  after- 
noon's. But  I  did  not  mean  to  argue.  We 
always  leave  off  where  we  began.  Do  not 
mind  coming  around  to  the  church  after  me. 
Very  likely  I  may  not  go  :  I  have  a  headache, 
and  cousin  Anna  has  been  advising  me  to  go  to 
bed.  So  good-night." 

In  the  quiet  of  her  room,  —  quiet  save  as  the 
dashing  of  the  waves  was  ever  sounding  in  her 
ears,  —  Marian  Kingsley  laid  down  her  aching 
head,  and  tried  to  still  her  throbbing  pulses. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  she  queried  of  her 


1 66  TRANSFORMED. 

own  heart.  "  Am  I  over-particular  ?  Am  I 
seeking  for  and  expecting  in  my  chosen  friends 
a  degree  of  perfection  which  can  never  be 
found  ? " 

For  two  or  three  days,  Fred  hovered  about, 
seeking  for  a  private  interview  :  he  fancied  that 
Marian  avoided  him,  or  rather  avoided  being 
alone  with  him.  Could  it  be  that  he  might  lose 
her,  after  all  ?  He  did  not  deem  it  possible, 
but  he  determined  to  end  his  suspense. 

"  Marian,  will  you  come  with  me  down  by 
the  sea  ?  I  must  see  you  before  I  go  away  " 
And  Marian,  feeling  that  it  must  come  now, 
let  herself  be  led  along  the  beach. 

It  was  just  at  twilight  that  he  seated  her  in 
a  deserted  pavilion ;  and  it  was  perhaps  half  an 
hour  later  that  he  said,  standing  before  her 
with  set  lips, — 

"  No,  Marian,  I  do  not  blame  you.  I  see 
now,  how  even  before  I  left  you  in  New  York 
you  tried  to  show  your  indifference  to  me,  and 
if  you  failed  to  make  me  understand,  it  was  be- 
cause I  would  not  see.  But,  Marian,  I  am  sure 
there  was  a  time  when,  if  I  had  asked  you  what 


TRANSFORMED.  167 

I  have  to-night,  you  would  not  have  sent  me 
away  without  hope.  But  something  came  be- 
tween us:  will  you  not  lell  me  what  it  was  ? " 

"  It  would  not  be  wise.  I  do  not  want  to 
lose  your  friendship,  and  you  would  be  angry." 

"  I  promise  not  to  be  offended." 

"  Well,  Fred,  it  was  not  that  any  thing  came 
between  us  ;  but  as  I  came  to  know  you  better 
I  —  Well,  I  was  disappointed  in  you.  You 
know  very  well  that  we  are  not  in  sympathy; 
we  do  not  think  alike  ;  our  views  and  our  aims 
are  very  dissimilar.  For  instance,  take  the 
matter  of  Christian  work  :  you  have  no  interest 
in  any  effort  to  raise  a  fellow-being  out  of  the 
depths,  excepting  by  organized  effort.  And 
take  the  temperance  question  :  I  heard  you  say 
once  that  your  wife  should  never  mix  in  any 
temperance  work.  In  fact,  Fred,  our  ideas  con- 
flict at  every  point  of  Christian  living." 

"  I  know,  Marian,  I  am  not  much  of  a  Chris- 
tian ;  but  with  you  to  help  me  I  should  do 
better." 

"  No,  you  would  not.  I  could  never  be  that 
sort  of  a  prop  for  any  man.  My  husband  must 


1 68  TRANSFORMED. 

be  one  to  whom  I  can  turn  for  sympathy  and 
help,  and  not  one  whom  I  must  bolster  up  in 
the  Christian  life." 

"  You  are  looking  for  perfection,  but  you  will 
never  find  it."  He  said  this  almost  sharply. 

"  No,  Fred,  you  are  mistaken.  The  fact  is, 
you  are  as  near  perfection  as  any  one  I  know, 
perhaps  ;  but  the  very  fact  that  you  do  not  sat- 
isfy me,  and  that  I  am  disposed  to  criticise  you, 
proves  to  me  that  I  do  not  love  you.  You 
ought  to  be  a  better  and  stronger  man  than 
you  are.  You  ought  to  let  your  religion  be 
more  than  something  to  enjoy.  It  needs  to  go 
down  deeper  into  your  nature,  and  to  give  you 
more  earnestness.  You  fling  opportunities  to 
work  for  God,  right  and  left ;  especially  if  one 
stands  in  the  way  of  a  business  interest,  you 
thrust  it  aside,  and  consider  yourself  justified 
in  doing  so.  Now  you'll  go  away  angry ;  but 
you  will  know  that  I  am  right,  and  that  we 
could  never  make  each  other  happy." 

"  I  should  think  not ! "  he  said.  She  had 
arisen  from  her  seat,  and  silently  they  walked 
back  to  the  cottage.  At  the  door  he  held  out 
his  hand. 


TRANSFORMED.  169 

"  I  do  not  know  as  I  ought  to  expect  you  to 
shake  hands  with  such  a  miserable  fellow,  but 
I  presume  you  shook  hands  with  old  Barney 
when  you  came  away." 

"  He  promised  to  make  the  most  of  himself," 
she  said,  smiling.  "  There's  enough  of  you  to 
make  a  grand  man." 


I/O  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"Sit  not  down  in  the  highest  room." 

THE  first  Monday  in  September  came  ;  and 
Thomas  Barnard,  dressed  in  his  best  clothes, 
betook  himself  to  the  church-meeting,  where  he 
was  to  transact  what  was  to  him  an  important 
piece  of  business.  One  of  the  officials  asked, — 

"  Well,  Barney,  what  can  we  do  for  you  ? " 

"  Well,  I  calculate  I  want  to  rent  a  pew  for 
the  year.  Me  and  my  family  have  concluded 
to  run  on  another  track  the  rest  of  our  lives ; 
and  I  s'pose  j'ining  the  church  is  where  you 
switch  on,  and  so  we  want  to  jine,  and  have  a 
pew,  and  run  alongside  o'  folks." 

"  You  mean,  you  want  to  belong  to  the  church 
society,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Well,  we  want  to  belong  the  same  as  other 
folks  do.  We  ain't  of  much  account,  but  I 


TRANSFORMED.  \J\ 

read  something  about  the  Lord's  Supper,  and 
how  he  told  his  disciples  to  observe  it ;  and  I 
was  here  one  Sunday  when  you  folks  all  took 
the  bread  and  wine :  the  pastor  said  all  who 
loved  the  Lord  were  welcome  ;  but  my  wife  and 
I  we  didn't  know,  — you  see,  we  thought  it  had 
to  be  voted  on  whether  or  not  we  could  belong ; 
and  so  I  kinder  shook  my  head  at  her,  and  we 
didn't  either  of  us  take  any.  And  I  thought 
we'd  come  and  see  about  it  to-day." 

If  a  clap  of  thunder  had  sounded  in  Mr.  Nor- 
ton's ears  that  bright  sunshiny  day,  he  would 
not  have  been  half  so  startled  as  by  that  queer 
speech.  He  was  staggered  for  a  moment ;  and 
then  he  recovered  himself,  and  said,  —  and  his 
voice  had  a  strangely  softened  sound,  even  in 
his  own  ears,  — 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  interested  in  these 
matters.  I  will  take  you  to  the  pastor's  study 
for  a  talk  with  him  about  coming  to  the  Lord's 
table.  Our  business  here  to-day  is  to  determine 
what  seats  we  will  occupy  for  the  coming  year. 
You  can  have  the  one  you  have  been  sitting  in, 
if  that  suits  you." 


1/2  TRANSFORMED. 

The  new-comer  among  them  stood  silent  for 
a  moment ;  then  he  said,  — 

"Well,  I'll  wait  a  little,  and  see  how  you  do 
it.  I  thought  you  rented  the  seats  some  way, 
and  Mr.  Graves  said  I  could  pick  out  one  to  suit 
myself.  Of  course  I  can't  pay  as  much  as  some 
of  you  rich  ones,  but  I  thought  maybe  there'd 
be  one  out  a  little  from  that  corner,  that  I 
could  pay  for." 

"Ah,  yes!  Well,  I'll  see.  How  much  do 
you  think  you  could  pay?" 

"Well,  you  see,"  —  and  here  he  grew  confi- 
dential, —  "  we  don't  know  just  how  to  divide  it. 
But  my  woman  and  I  thought  we'd  give  three 
dollars  to  home  missions,  and  three  more  to  the 
other  kind  ;  and  I've  figured  it  all  out  here. 
If  I  get  work  every  day  at  say  a  dollar  a  day, 
—  I  got  two  dollars  in  haying,  but  say  a  dollar 
taking  it  all  round,  —  why,  that  will  be  three 
hundred  dollars,  allowing  for  a  holiday  or  two 
and  for  extra  meeting  days  (for  I  see  you  have 
some  meetings  on  week-days) ;  and  one-tenth  of 
that  is  thirty  dollars.  Take  away  six  dollars  \ 
and  then  we  thought  we'd  allow  something,  say 


TRANSFORMED.  173 

about  four  dollars,  for  other  things  that  come 
along,  so  there'd  be  ten  to  take  away :  and  that 
would  leave  twenty  for  the  pew-rent.  But  then, 
there's  my  pension-money,  and  my  wife  said  we 
must  take  a  tenth  out  of  that  :  so  I  thought 
we'd  make  the  pew-rent  thirty  dollars.  Now, 
can  you  give  us  a  kinder  pleasant  seat  for  that  ? 
I  suppose  we  might  make  it  a  little  more  by 
taking  it  off  some  of  the  other  things.  You 
see,  we  don't  know  just  how  you  church-folks 
divide  the  tenths.  We  ain't  much  on  arith- 
metic ;  but  my  boys  are  getting  quite  smart  at 
accounts,  and  we  shall  learn  how  to  divide  up 
things  after  a  while." 

Mr.  Norton  had  listened  attentively  to  this 
long  speech,  and  at  its  conclusion  he  said,  — 

"  I'll  speak  to  brother  Graves."  To  tell  the 
truth,  he  did  not  know  what  reply  to  make. 
Thirty  dollars  !  Why,  that  was  more  than  he 
paid  for  the  support  of  the  gospel  in  Waltham. 
Indeed,  there  were  not  many  members  of  that 
society  who  did  more.  That  ought  to  entitle 
Barney  to  one  of  the  best  seats  in  the  church. 
No  wonder  Mr.  Norton  wanted  to  consult 


174  TRANSFORMED. 

brother  Graves  :  the  whole  subject  was  too 
much  for  him.  Already  "old  Barney"  had 
gone  beyond  this  officer  in  the  church.  Three 
dollars  to  home  missions,  and  three  to  "the 
other  kind  "  !  Why,  he  had  never  given  more 
than  one  dollar  a  year ;  indeed,  he  thought  him- 
self quite  liberal  in  giving  that  amount  for  the 
work  of  sending  the  glad  tidings  abroad.  He 
very  well  knew  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
congregation  helped  on  the  spread  of  the  gospel 
with  their  "  small  change."  Tenths !  How 
many  of  them  had  ever  thought  of  setting  apart 
a  proportionate  amount  for  the  Lord's  treasury? 
And,  if  any  thought  of  it,  how  many  conscien- 
tiously did  it  ? 

Going  over  to  brother  Graves,  Mr.  Norton 
told  his  story  as  well  as  he  could.  Mr.  Graves's 
astonishment  surpassed  even  his  own,  and  he 
said  quickly,  — 

"This  must  not  be  allowed.  The  man  is 
beside  himself.  The  idea !  A  man  who  has 
to  have  help  from  his  neighbors  to  keep  off 
starvation,  talking  about  thirty  dollars  for  a 
pew  !  It  must  not  be  allowed." 


TRANSFORMED.  175 

"Brother  Graves,"  began  Mr.  Norton,  "we 
will  not  be  called  upon  to  help  that  family  after 
this.  The  man  is  made  over  somehow ;  and  if 
after  talking  with  him  you  want  to  refuse  his 
offering,  you  will  have  to  take  the  responsibility; 
I  would  not  like  to  suggest  it.  Let  us  go  and 
talk  with  brother  Manning." 

And  to  the  pastor's  study  they  went. 

Now,  in  justice  to  the  pastor  of  Waltharn 
church,  it  ought  to  be  recorded,  that  all  through 
the  long  summer  months  every  moment  which 
could  be  snatched  from  public  duties  had  been 
spent  by  the  bedside  of  a  suffering  wife  ;  and 
his  people  had  willingly  excused  him  from  any 
pastoral  visiting.  He  had  noticed  the  strangers 
who  sat  in  the  corner  pew,  and  had  sought  them 
out  several  times  after  service  to  shake  hands 
with  them  ;  and  now  that  the  invalid  was  on 
the  road  to  health,  he  meant  to  seek  out  their 
home.  He  had  said  to  his  wife,  only  the  day 
before,  — 

"  Those  people  they  call  the  Barneys  were  at 
church  again  to-day.  I  must  certainly  get  over 
there,  or  out  there,  or  down,  or  up,  —  I  am  sure 


1/6  TRANSFORMED. 

I  don't  know  which  it  is,  —  some  day  this 
week." 

He  listened  to  the  story  which  his  visitors 
had  to  tell,  with  great  interest,  and  replied,  — 

"  Well,  brethren,  I  should  say  we  had  reason 
to  thank  God  for  his  grace  manifested  in  and 
towards  these  people." 

"  But,  brother  Manning,  you  do  not  know 
the  family.  They  are  the  lowest  you  can  ima- 
gine. They  live  more  like  beasts  out  in  that 
hovel  than  like  human  beings." 

"Well?" 

"  The  man  does  not  know  what  he  is  about, 
evidently,"  said  Mr.  Graves. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Norton.  "  He  talks 
as  if  he  had  looked  the  ground  all  over,  and 
knew  exactly  what  he  wants  to  do." 

"So  it  seems,"  said  the  pastor.  "Now,  my 
opinion  is,  that  you  should  select  a  pew  for  him 
just  as  you  would  for  any  stranger  who  came  in 
offering  to  pay  for  a  thirty-dollar  seat.  If  there 
is  any  right  in  the  plan  of  renting  pews  in  this 
way, — and  I  am  not  questioning  it,  —  then  it 
is  right  that  he  should  have  what  his  money 


TRANSFORMED.  177 

calls  for.  And,  if  he  wishes  to  come  to  the 
Lord's  table,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  refuse 
him  the  privilege,  except  for  reasons  which 
would  apply  in  the  case  of  a  member  of  your 
own  family.  I  am  sure  that  his  readiness  to 
bring  in  the  tithes  goes  a  long  way  to  prove  his 
sincerity.  When  a  man's  pocket-book  is  con- 
secrated, it  is  usually  the  case  that  his  whole 
life  is  turned  into  a  new  channel." 

"But  they  have  scarcely  decent  clothing," 
said  Mr.  Graves.  "The  man  has  on  his  best 
to-day,  and  you  will  think  him  a  shabby-looking 
fellow  if  you'll  step  into  the  church  and  take  a 
look  at  him." 

"  His  shabbiness  will  not  trouble  me.  But  if, 
as  you  say,  they  are  in  need  of  suitable  cloth- 
ing, the  church  must  find  a  way  to  help  them 
to  it  without  trampling  on  their  self-respect.  I 
must  get  acquainted  with  the  family.  It  seems 
evident  that  we  as  a  church  have  something  to 
do.  This  family  comes  to  us  from  the  depths, 
as  you  say.  They  may  be  still  reeking  with 
slime,  the  habits  of  years  may  be  clinging  to 
them  ;  but  if  they  have  come  up  out  of  their 


178  TRANSFORMED. 

degradation,  it  is  our  duty  to  help  them  to  hold 
their  footing,  to  see  that  they  are  not  dragged 
back  by  the  power  of  habit  or  by  the  discour- 
agements of  the  new  life  entered  upon  under 
unfavorable  circumstances.  If  these  people 
come  into  our  church,  we  must  see  to  it  that 
they  are  neither  allowed  to  stumble  for  want  of 
light,  nor  frozen  for  want  of  warmth.  If  our 
own  hearts  are  not  sufficiently  fired  with  reli- 
gious zeal  to  give  them  the  comfort  and  glow 
they  need  for  growth,  then  let  us  get  fired ;  let 
us  seek  for  a  new  baptism.  We  have  been  so 
long  with  nothing  to  do,  that  a  sensation  of  this 
sort,  bringing  work  into  our  very  midst,  may 
warm  us,  and  inspire  us  with  a  working  spirit. 
I  think  I'll  go  now  and  harness  my  horse,  and 
take  Mrs.  Manning  for  a  short  drive  while  you 
settle  the  pew-business  ;  then  I'll  drive  brother 
Barnard  home,  and  get  acquainted  with  the 
family.  Keep  him  here  until  I  get  back." 

Mr.  Norton,  who  had  talked  with  the  new 
brother,  could  not  dissent  from  their  pastor's 
remarks  ;  but  Mr.  Graves  evidently  was  not  in 
sympathy  with  his  ideas. 


TRANSFORMED.  179 

"  It  is  a  great  mistake,"  he  said.  "  The  Bar- 
neys ought  to  be  kept  in  their  proper  sphere. 
They  are  as  much  out  of  place  in  the  society 
of  respectable  people,  and  as  much  out  of  their 
element,  as  a  duckling  out  of  water.  Besides, 
if  we  do  the  fair  thing,  they  ought  to  have  that 
pew  next  to  Colonel  Strong's." 

"  But  you  would  not  counsel  the  doing  of  an 
unfair  thing,  would  you  ? "  asked  Mr.  Norton, 
smiling. 

"  Well,  no ;  but  the  colonel's  wife  will  never 
endure  to  sit  beside  old  Moll  Barney,  and  that 
is  what  she  will  have  to  do  if  we  give  them  what 
their  money  calls  for." 

"  But  I  do  not  quite  understand.  What  would 
you  propose  ? " 

"  I  would  try  to  persuade  them  that  they 
ought  not  to  give  so  much.  If  we  could  make 
the  man  see  that  he  ought  not  to  pay  more  than 
fifteen  dollars,  then  we  could  give  him  the  seat 
by  the  pillar,  and  no  one  would  be  annoyed  by 
their  proximity.  And  really  it  seems  wrong  to 
take  even  as  much  as  that  from  a  man  in  his 
circumstances." 


180  TRANSFORMED. 

Mr.  Norton  shook  his  head.  "It  won't  do. 
Mr.  Manning  has  expressed  himself  too  strongly. 
We  must  just  go  on,  and  do  the  fair  thing." 

"But,"  persisted  Mr.  Graves,  "I  insist  that 
it  will  be  the  fair  thing  to  do  what  I  propose ; 
besides,  it  will  never  do  to  offend  the  Strongs." 

"  We  will  not  do  that.  My  pew  is  just  across 
from  the  colonel's,  and  I  presume  an  exchange 
can  be  made.  My  wife  will  not  mind." 

But  when  Thomas  Barnard  was  shown  the 
seat  marked  thirty  dollars,  he  said,  — 

"  That  won't  do.  Why,  it  is  one  of  the  best 
in  the  church!  That  ought  to  go  to  some  of 
you  rich  fellows  who  have  more  tenths.  A 
poor  fellow  like  me  can't  expect  the  best.  No, 
all  I  ask  is  a  middling  sort  of  a  place,  back 
there  somewheres  nigh  that  'ere  post.  Now,  I 
kinder  think  that  post  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
lean  my  head  agin  when  I'm  tired.  You  see, 
I  haven't  been  used  to  listening  to  such  deep 
thoughts  as  the  parson  gets  off,  and  sometimes 
my  head  whirls  with  trying  to  understand  him. 
I'd  like  that  seat  right  well,  if  you  have  no 
objections." 


TRA  NS 'FORMED.  1 8 1 

"But  that  seat  is  not  marked  quite  so  high," 
ventured  Mr.  Norton. 

"Makes  no  sort  o?  difference  what  it's  marked. 
I've  got  the  thirty  dollars, — at  least,  I've  got  a 
part  of  it  here  to-day,  and  if  the  Lord  spares 
my  life  and  strength  I'll  have  the  rest  on't ;  and 
if  I  like  the  seat  I  dunno's  it  makes  any  differ- 
ence ef  'tain't  marked  more'n  five  dollars.  I 
calculate  I'm  paying  out  money  for  the  support 
of  the  gospel,  and  not  for  a  seat.  I  hain't  got 
no  call  to  take  the  front  seats  just  now.  My 
woman  was  reading  in  the  Good  Book  how  the 
master  of  the  feast  said  to  one  who  took  a  low 
place,  '  Friend,  come  up  higher ; '  and  she  says 
to  me,  '  Now,  Thomas,  don't  go  to  pushing  for- 
ward ;  take  a  low  seat,  and  maybe  some  day 
you'll  hear  the  Master  a-saying,  Come  up 
higher.  But  it  won't  be  money  that  buys  the 
higher  places  at  that  feast.'  " 

"  The  fellow  is  away  ahead  of  us  !  "  said  Mr. 
Norton,  turning  away.  "I  declare,  I  haven't 
heard  a  sermon  in  years,  —  and  our  pastor 
preaches  pretty  plain  too,  —  that  makes  the 
duty  of  Christians  in  regard  to  giving  half  as 


1 82  TRANSFORMED. 

plain  as  that  man's  example.  And  his  ideas, 
homely  as  they  are  in  the  expression,  are  born 
out  of  something  that  I  fear  the  most  of  us 
have  not  come  into  the  possession  of.  I  am 
going  home  to  calculate  my  income,  and  see 
what  7  ought  to  give  back  to  the  Lord ! " 

The  matter  was  settled  quite  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  Mr.  Graves  ;  that  gentleman  quieting 
any  scruples  he  may  have  had  against  renting 
a  fifteen-dollar  seat  for  thirty,  by  the  reflection 
that  "  the  man  would  never  pay  more  than  the 
fifteen  dollars  anyway  :  the  rest  would  be  in 
talk !  And  that  seat  is  much  more  suitable 
for  the  family :  the  idea  that  brother  Norton 
thought  they  ought  to  have  the  pew  next  to 
Colonel  Strong ! " 

Presently,  at  a  seasonable  moment,  Mr.  Man- 
ning drove  up,  and,  shaking  hands  cordially, 
said,  — 

"  Brother  Barnard,  I  am  going  out  your 
way,  and  I  think  I  will  call  on  your  family. 
I  have  another  parishioner  beyond  your 
house." 

"Another  parishioner !"     Those  words   im- 


TRA  NS FORM  ED  1 8  3 

pressed  Thomas  Barnard.  Another!  then  he 
must  be  considered  as  one.  A  parishioner? 
Of  course  :  he  was  now  a  pew-holder  in  Wal- 
tham  Church! 


1 84  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

"God  .  .  .  giveth  grace  unto  the  humble." 

MR.  MANNING  made  no  haste,  but  drove  leis- 
urely along  the  country  roads,  seeking  to  draw 
out  and  get  acquainted  with  his  companion. 
The  day  was  bright  and  cool.  There  was  no 
hint  in  all  the  woodland  of  the  coming  glory 
of  autumn.  The  hay  and  grain  harvests  had 
long  been  gathered,  and  the  stubble  overgrown 
with  the  aftermath  which  had  almost  the  fresh- 
ness of  spring-time ;  but  there  was  a  haze  in 
the  atmosphere,  there  were  sounds  in  the  air 
that  belong  only  to  the  last  days  of  summer 
and  the  first  of  autumn,  —  the  rustle  in  the 
corn-fields,  the  chirping  of  crickets,  the  drop- 
ping of  ripening  fruits,  and  the  flutter  of  wings 
as  some  southward-bound  flock  of  birds  sweep 
over  orchard  and  meadow.  Mr.  Manning  en- 


TRANSFORMED.  185 

joyed  the  brightness  and  the  peculiar  beauty 
of  this  September  day ;  but  as  he  listened  to 
the  story  of  the  man  beside  him,  his  soul  was 
thrilled  as  he  became  the  possessor  of  the 
secret  of  the  transforming  work  which  was 
going  on  in  the  life  of  the  man  and  in  his 
family.  That  night  he  said  to  his  wife  as  he 
told  the  story  of  the  day,  — 

"When  Marian  Kingsley  first  lifted  her 
voice  in  our  prayer-meeting,  I  felt  that  she  had 
come  among  us  to  be  a  blessing,  and  I  asked 
God  to  make  her  such.  I  realized  that  we 
needed  the  infusion  of  just  such  a  warm,  ear- 
nest spirit  among  us.  But  afterwards  I  felt 
that  she  had  been  chilled,  and  that  the  little 
spark  of  fire  which  she  had  brought  had  gone 
out  in  the  blast  of  neglect ;  and  I  blamed  my- 
self that  I  did  not  do  something  to  fan  it  into 
a  blaze.  And  then  I  hoped  and  prayed  that 
somewhere  she  would  apply  the  torch  which 
would  set  us  all  on  fire.  But  she  went  away 
suddenly  ;  and  then  I  mourned  that  she  had 
gone,  and  wished  that  I  had  seen  more  of  her, 
and  thought  that  I  had  lost  an  opportunity 


1 86  TRANSFORMED. 

of  securing  help.  But  to-day,  after  all  these 
months,  I  have  discovered  in  a  remote  corner 
of  my  parish  the  fire  she  kindled,  burning 
brightly !  Yes,  and  likely  to  spread  into  the 
church.  I  tell  you,  Carrie,  I  felt  humbled,  but 
so  thankful  !  Why,  that  woman  in  that  poor 
home  is  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  learning  of 
him.  There  are  women  who  have  been  mem- 
bers of  this  church  for  years,  who  have  not 
gone  beyond  the  alphabet  of  Christian  living ; 
while  she  has  gained  a  knowledge  of  the  duties 
and  privileges  of  a  Christian  that  is  wonderful. 
She  seems  to  have  taken  into  her  heart  the 
essence  of  Christianity.  The  fact  is,  she  has 
drank  from  the  fountain-head  only ;  she  has 
been  living  upon  the  Bible.  She  tells  me  she 
has  been  a  great  novel-reader,  but  that  she  has 
thrown  aside  every  thing  but  the  Bible,  and 
has  been  seeking  wisdom  of  God." 

Mr.  Manning  was  somewhat  surprised  when 
he  reached  the  little  house  in  the  clearing  that 
afternoon.  He  remembered  it,  as  he  had  seen 
it  in  driving  past,  some  months  previous.  He 
had  noted  the  miserable  hovel,  and  wondered  a 


TRA  NS FORM  ED.  1 87 

little  as  to  who  occupied  it,  but  had  not  been 
sufficiently  interested  to  make  any  inquiries. 
It  had  not  occurred  to  him,  or  at  least  not 
more  than  as  a  passing  thought,  that  he  had 
any  thing  to  do  with  the  people  who  lived 
there.  But  to-day,  as  he  saw  the  work  which 
had  been  done  through  the  instrumentality  of 
another,  he  sighed  as  he  thought,  "  Here  was 
an  opportunity  lost.  God  could  and  did  reach 
these  people  without  me,  but  I  have  missed  the 
reward :  I  was  unfaithful  to  what  was  within 
my  charge,  and  passed  it  by." 

And  yet,  do  you  know,  I  think  Mr.  Manning 
blamed  himself  too  severely.  Perhaps  the 
time  had  not  come  to  help  the  family  then.  It 
was  only  when  sickness  and  trouble  came  to 
them,  that  they  were  in  a  position  to  be 
reached ;  and  had  he  tried  before  that,  he  might 
have  failed.  It  was  only  when  Marian  Kings- 
ley  had  won  their  hearts  by  her  care  of  the 
sick  mother,  and  her  help  in  other  ways,  that 
she  was  able  to  lead  them  up  to  a  higher  plane. 

One  would  scarcely  have  known  the  little 
house  for  the  same  that  Marian  Kingsley's  eyes 


1 88        ,  TRANSFORMED. 

had  first  looked  upon.  Nan's  bright  scarlet 
beans,  intermingled  with  other  running  plants 
which  Mrs.  Dexter's  package  contained,  covered 
the  windows,  and  hung  in  graceful  festoons 
over  the  doorway.  Every  thing  around  the 
house  was  tidy,  and  had  a  cleared-up  air.  In- 
stead of  the  scattered  logs  and  pile  of  uncut 
branches  lying  just  as  dragged  from  the  swamp- 
lot,  there  was  a  trim  pile  of  wood  all  ready  for 
the  stove,  and  sheltered  from  the  rain  by  a  few 
slabs  which  Reg  had  brought  from  the  mill 
and  laid  with  a  slope  sufficient  to  carry  off 
the  water.  The  little  strawberry-patch  on  the 
sandy  knoll  was  free  from  weeds,  as  was 
the  garden  with  its  ripening  vegetables.  A 
few  golden  pumpkins  gleamed  through  the 
vines ;  some  mammoth  cabbages,  and  a  few 
brilliant  red  tomatoes,  told  of  success  in  the 
experiment  of  gardening.  Mr.  Manning  said 
to  Reg,— 

"  Seems  to  me  you  have  a  knack  at  raising 
tomatoes  :  I  haven't  seen  any  so  fine  this  sea- 
son ; "  which  bit  of  praise  won  Reg's  heart, 
and  set  him  to  watching  for  an  opportunity  to 
consult  his  mother. 


TRA  NSFORMED.  1 89 

Though  the  inside  accommodations  were 
poor  and  scanty,  all  was  neat  and  in  order. 
Marian  Kingsley's  most  careful  clearing-up 
would  have  brought  to  light  no  long-lost  spoons 
or  knives,  or  missing  articles  of  clothing.  The 
chair  which  Mrs.  Barnard  set  out  for  her  vis- 
itor was  well  scoured,  though  slightly  rickety. 
The  stove  was  black,  and  shone  with  its  fresh 
coat  of  blacking ;  though  the  lids  were  cracked, 
and  the  broken  door  propped  up  with  a  brick. 

There  were  wonderful  improvements  in  the 
domestic  management  of  that  household,  though 
the  visitor  did  not  know  it.  The  shiny  tin  tea- 
pot which  stood  upon  the  shelf  had  taken  the 
place  of  the  whiskey-jug.  The  bright  tea- 
kettle which  steamed  upon  the  stove  was  an 
innovation.  Wholesome  Graham-flour,  with  an 
occasional  treat  of  white  flour,  had  taken  the 
place  of  middlings  ;  and  loaves  of  bread  had 
superseded  the  sticky  griddle-cake. 

With  the  daily  exercise  of  her  new-born 
energy,  Mrs.  Barnard  was  fast  becoming  a 
notable  housekeeper.  She  longed  to  ask  her 
pastor  to  stay  to  tea,  but  would  not  risk  a 


IQO  TRANSFORMED. 

refusal ;  besides,  she  felt  that  she  had  nothing 
suitable  to  set  before  him.  Yet  she  need  not 
have  been  ashamed  of  her  light,  tender  loaf  of 
bread,  baked  only  on  the  Saturday  before,  or 
of  the  cup  of  tea  which  she  had  learned  to 
make  properly  before  Miss  Kingsley  went 
away.  But  she  did  not  know  this,  and  looked 
forward  with  the  hope  that  perhaps  some  day 
she  could  Have  the  coveted  honor.  But  I  be- 
lieve that  Mr.  Manning  would  have  accepted 
the  invitation,  had  it  been  given,  and  would 
have  drunk  his  tea  from  a  chipped  cup,  and 
eaten  his  bread  and  butter  from  off  a  cracked 
plate  such  as  his  wife  would  have  consigned  to 
the  pile  of  baking-plates  or  perhaps  to  the 
waste-heap. 

The  call  was  in  all  respects  a  happy  one ; 
nothing  occurred  to  mar  the  pleasure  of  the 
interview ;  and  the  pastor  marvelled  more  and 
more,  as  he  talked  with  different  members  of 
the  family,  at  the  progress  that  had  been  made 
in  the  divine  life.  He  realized  as  never  before, 
what  a  few  months  of  feeding  upon  the  word 
of  God  will  do  for  the  growth  of  a  soul.  And 


TRANSFORMED.  191 

it  became  evident,  in  the  course  of  the  conver- 
sation, that  to  study  the  Bible,  and  follow  out 
its  teachings,  had  become  the  leading  thought 
in  the  minds  of  this  couple.  Thomas  said,  — 

"  You  see,  parson,  I  never  set  up  to  be  much 
of  a  scholar  :  I  can  read  some,  but  I  don't  seem 
to  sense  what  I  reads  myself.  I  can  write  a 
bit  too.  —  Say,  Nan,  run  and  bring  the  Book. 
I  want  to  ask  the  parson  if  I  did  that  writing 
all  straight,  —  the  names,  you  know,  Molly,  in 
the  middle  pages  there.  Oh,  you-  needn't  mind 
if  the  minister  does  find  out  how  old  ye  be  ! 
We  ain't  either  on  us  as  young  as  we  was.  But 
then,  I  reckon  as  fur  as  real  living  goes,  we 
are  about  as  young  as  anybody  in  this  neighbor- 
hood :  why;  parson,  'tain't  a  year  yet  since  we 
was  born  over  again  !  Oh,  I'm  glad  you  didn't 
know  us  afore  that !  " 

Meantime,  while  he  talked,  he  turned  over 
the  leaves ;  and,  finding  the  record  which  he 
had  filled  out  with  such  patient  labor,  he  held  it 
up  for  examination. 

"There!  You  can  see  I  ain't  much  of  a 
scribe,  now,  but  I  did  the  best  I  could." 


192  TRANSFORMED. 

Mr.  Manning  took  the  Bible,  saying, — 

"  I  want  to  remember  all  your  names  :  per- 
haps this  will  help." 

And  he  read  over  the  names,  evidently  giving 
his  host  great  satisfaction  in  being  able  to  do 
so  without  trouble.  As  he  came  to  the  end,  he 
looked  around  puzzled,  and  said,  — 

"  Why,  you  have  left  out  one  ;  which  is  it  ? 
Why,  it  must  be  this  little  fellow." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  host,  "that's  the  only 
quarrel  my  wife  and  I  have  had  since  we  began 
to  read  the  Book.  We  had  a  dispute  about  the 
boy's  name  :  she  wanted  it  one  thing,  and  I 
wanted  it  another.  No,  that  ain't  it  neither: 
I  wanted  it  one  thing,  and  she  didn't  want  it 
that,  and  so  I  left  it.  But  I've  concluded  that 
I've  got  to  give  up.  I  never  meant  to  — there! 
Not  that  I  cared  about  the  name,  but  I  didn't 
mean  to  yield  to  nobody.  I've  had  a  good  deal 
of  a  fight  about  that  very  thing,  all  alone  with 
myself,  with  Satan  backing  the  other  side,  out 
there  in  the  woods,  and  sometimes  in  the  night 
when  Molly  was  asleep." 

"  Why,  Thomas  !     I  never  knowed  you  cared 


TRANSFORMED.  193 

so  about  that  name.  I'll  never  call  him  Huey 
again." 

"Then  you  won't  call  him  by  his  name,  kase 
that  is  what  his  name  is  going  to  be." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  this  little  fellow  has  been 
all  this  time  without  a  name  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Man- 
ning. Thereupon  Thomas  explained  how  the 
child's  name  had  been  a  bone  of  contention, 
and  how  the  boy  himself  had  sided  against  the 
father ;  and  went  over  again  the  story  of  his 
own  struggle  with  himself,  and  of  his  final  de- 
termination to  yield.  "And  now,  parson,"  he 
concluded,  "I  just  want  you  to  put  the  little 
chap's  name  down  there,  just  as  the  mother 
and  the  rest  on  'em  wants  it ;  and  then  he  will 
have  a  name." 

After  some  more  discussion  over  a  middle 
name,  Mr.  Manning  wrote  below  the  unskilled 
hand  which  had  filled  the  other  blanks,  "  Hugh 
Kingsley  Barnard." 

Taking  the  Bible  from  the  hand  of  his  pas- 
tor, Mr.  Barnard  looked  at  the  name,  and  said 
with  feeling,  — 

"  I'm  glad  it  is  written  !     It  stands  for  a  vie- 


1 94  TRA  NSFORMED. 

tory  over  old  Satan.  He  just  fought  hard  on 
the  side  of  my  self-will  and  pride !  He  told 
me  over  and  over  not  to  give  up,  that  I  had  the 
best  right  to  name  the  boy,  and  he  argued  that 
the  little  fellow  was  named  already,  and  that  he 
couldn't  have  his  name  changed  only  by  an  Act 
of  Legislates  But,  land  !  I  knew  it  wasn't  so. 
The  child  couldn't  be  named  without  the  con- 
sent of  his  mother,  and  my  putting  'Je'  onter 
the  name  his  mother  called  him  by  didn't  make 
that  his  name.  But  now  it's  writ  down  here, 
I  guess  that  the  old  enemy  himself  can't  rub 
that  out !  Well,  I  was  a-saying,  that  I  can't 
read  much,  not  having  great  book-larning ;  and 
there's  one  thing,  —  if  book-larning  will  make 
a  fellow  write  like  that  'ar,  I'll  see  to  it  that 
my  youngsters  gets  an  eddication.  But  I  was 
a-telling  on  ye,  that  seeing  I  ain't  much  of  a 
reader,  Molly  here  reads  to  us  all.  She  is  a 
master-hand  at  reading,  and  she  makes  us  un- 
derstand every  word." 

"But  do  you  not  find  things  in  the  Bible 
which  are  difficult  to  understand  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Manning. 


TRANSFORMED.  195 

"Well,  sometimes  ;  though  I  think  it  is  pretty 
plain  mostly.  But  the  other  morning  she  read 
about  the  man  who  was  found  at  the  feast  with- 
out a  wedding-garment  on,  and  was  cast  out. 
Now,  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  might  not  be  fair 
always  to  cast  out  a  fellow  who  was  not  dressed 
quite  up  to  style.  Maybe  he  was  poor,  and 
wore  the  best  he  had." 

"  But  the  master  of  the  feast  along  with  the 
invitations  sent  the  proper  garment  to  be  worn 
upon  the  occasion,  sent  to  all  the  guests.  But 
this  man  refused  to  put  it  on." 

"I  see!"  exclaimed  Mrs  Barnard.  "Don't 
you  understand,  Thomas  ?  It  is  Christ's  right- 
eousness that  he  means,  and  we  are  the  guests. 
And  I  suppose  there's  some  that's  too  proud  to 
take  favors,  and  want  to  come  to  the  feast  in 
their  own  fine  clothes,  which  turn  out  after  all 
to  be  only  rags  ;  and  some  maybe  put  off  chan- 
ging until  it  was  too  late ;  and  maybe,  Thomas, 
there'd  be  some  like  you  and  me,  that  never 
heard  of  the  invitation,  or  had  forgotten  all 
about  it.  That's  the  way  it  would  have  been  if 
that  blessed  young  lady  hadn't  come  here  and 
told  us." 


196  TRANSFORMED. 

"But,"  said  Thomas,  "suppose  a  man  was 
too  proud  to  wear  the  garment  which  was  given 
him  along  with  the  invitation,  and  should  make 
one  pretty  near  like  it,  just  as  near  as  he  could, 
and  put  that  on  :  d'ye  suppose  he  could  slip  in  ?  " 

"  He  might  slip  in  among  the  other  guests 
undetected ;  but  when  the  Master  of  the  feast 
came,  he  would  know,  and  under  his  look  the 
false  garment  would  turn,  as  your  wife  has  said, 
into  filthy  rags.  We  may  deceive  our  fellow- 
men,  but  we  cannot  deceive  Christ." 

"  That  is  what  I  told  neighbor  Filkins,"  said 
Thomas.  "We  had  a  talk  the  other  day.  It 
wasn't  about  wedding-garments,  for  my  wife 
hadn't  come  to  that  yet ;  but  he  said  as  how  he 
thought  he  lived  as  well  as  folks  that  called 
themselves  Christians,  and  he  believed  his  pass, 
as  he  called  it,  would  take  him  into  heaven  as 
quick  as  anybody's.  Now  that  you've  explained 
about  this  wedding-garment,  it  seems  to  me 
that  Filkins  is  trying  to  slip  in  in  a  fine  dress 
of  his  own  making;  and  the  real  will  have  the 
Master's  name  writ  on  it.  I  kinder  allowed  all 
along,  that  there  was  some  sort  of  a  meaning 


TRANSFORMED.  197 

to  that  passage,  like  there  is  to  a  riddle ;  but 
we  couldn't  study  it  out.  But  when  my  boys 
gets  a  little  more  larnin',  they  will  help  us  out 
with  the  puzzles." 

Presently  Mr.  Manning  proposed  that  they 
should  all  kneel,  and  ask  God's  blessing. 

"  Sartin,  sartin ! "  said  the  host  heartily. 
"  Right  there  where  you  are  setting,  Miss 
Kingsley  knelt  down  and  prayed  the  first  prayer 
I  had  heard  in  years  ;  and  right  there  I  prayed 
my  first  prayer,  and  promised  on  my  knees  to 
serve  the  Lord.  My  woman  had  done  that 
afore  ;  but  that  was  when  I  put  Satan  out,  and 
took  the  Lord  in." 

As  the  pastor  drove  homeward  after  making 
a  call  upon  his  other  friends  in  that  direction, 
meditating  within  himself,  he  said  aloud,  "The 
grace  of  God  !  The  grace  of  God  !  How  won- 
derful is  its  transforming  power  !  " 

Reg  had  managed  a  whispered  consultation 
with  his  mother  ;  and  as  their  visitor  was  ready 
to  go,  he  appeared  with  a  dozen  of  his  finest 
tomatoes  as  a  gift  for  the  minister.  Even  if 
Mr.  Manning  had  bushels  at  home,  —  which  he 


1 98  TRA  NSFORMED. 

had  not,  —  he  would  have  accepted  the  gift  with 
pleasure.  He  expressed  his  thanks  warmly, 
and  gave  Reg  an  idea. 

"  I  shall  have  to  get  you  to  raise  my  vege- 
tables forme  another  year:  I  have  no  success 
with  my  garden.  There  are  a  number  of  us 
village  people  who  sigh  for  some  one  to  bring 
us  our  supply  fresh  from  a  country  garden. 
You  might  set  up  for  a  market-gardener." 

And  with  a  cheery  smile  and  a  good-by  he 
drove  off,  leaving  Reg  richer  in  many  ways,  — 
richer  in  friends,  and  richer  in  ideas.  Now, 
how  to  please  the  one,  and  how  to  work  out  the 
other,  became  his  study. 

Reg  had  reached  his  thirteenth  birthday  :  he 
felt  himself  quite  a  man,  and  was  as  full  of  am- 
bitions as  a  boy  could  well  be.  It  was  not  yet 
a  year  since  he  had  awakened  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  ambitions.  He  had 
been  satisfied  with  the  sort  of  life  he  had  been 
living,  until  that  night  when  the  family  sat 
down  to  a  well-spread  tea-table !  Then  and 
there  a  feeling  sprang  up  in  his  heart,  that 
things  ought  to  be  different ;  and  a  resolve 


TRANSFORMED,  199 

that  they  should  be  different  was  written  down 
along  with  the  other  feeling.  There  was  born 
in  that  hour  an  ambition  to  live  like  other 
people,  though  the  boy  did  not  know  it.  He 
had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  an  ambition. 
Perhaps  because  in  all  these  twelve  years  he 
had  never  heard  or  thought  of  any  thing  better, 
the  new  ideas  had  taken  hold  with  a  firmer 
grasp :  it  would  not  have  been  easy  for  Reg  to 
go  back  entirely  satisfied  with  the  old  ways. 
Never  from  that  evening  was  he  content  to  eat 
a  simple  luncheon  without  a  plate,  knife  and 
fork,  and  tablecloth  :  a  little  later  a  napkin  be- 
came quite  indispensable.  He  had  never  been 
wanting  in  energy,  and  his  active  mind  had  new 
fields  of  exercise.  Heretofore  his  surplus  ener- 
gies had  been  used  exclusively  in  the  carrying- 
out  of  mischievous  schemes ;  but  now  every 
thing  must  bend  to  the  accomplishment  of  his 
purpose,  —  to  live  like  other  folks  ! 


200  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

"  For  the  place  ...  is  holy." 

THOMAS  BARNARD  and  his  wife  did  not  hear 
the  notice  of  the  weekly  prayer-meeting  given 
out  from  the  pulpit,  sabbath  after  sabbath, 
without  becoming  interested  in  it,  and  feeling 
that  perhaps  they  ought  to  attend  it.  And  yet 
a  walk  of  two  miles  in  the  evening,  after  a  day 
of  hard  work,  seemed  quite  an  undertaking. 
They  consulted  their  pastor  as  to  their  duty. 

"Molly  ain't  strong,"  said  Thomas,  "and 
then  there's  the  children :  we  don't  like  to 
leave  them  alone  in  the  evening,  though  Reg 
is  getting  to  be  a  great  boy.  But  if  we 
oughter  go,  we'll  try  to  make  it  out." 

"  It  does  seem  a  long  walk,"  said  Mr.  Man- 
ning ;  "and  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  some  of  our 
good  people  who  have  horses  think  that  two 


TRANSFORMED.  2OI 

miles  is  too  far  to  come  to  prayer-meeting.  I 
don't  think  you  could  come  always ;  but  if  you 
would  remember  the  meeting  at  home,  and 
come  as  often  as  you  feel  able,  it  will  do  great 
good.  You  have  never  been  at  all  ? " 

"  Never  went  to  a  prayer-meeting  in  my  life, 
as  I  remember,"  said  Thomas. 

"  Well,  try  to  come  the  next  moonlight  even- 
ing. It  will  do  you  good." 

The  words  had  no  sooner  passed  his  lips, 
than  Mr.  Manning  asked  himself,  "Will  it  do 
him  good  ?  Are  our  prayer-meetings  such  as 
will  help  him  ?  Will  they  give  him  an  upward 
impetus  ?  Will  he  get  higher  views  of  Chris- 
tian living,  and  be  filled  with  a  desire  to  emu- 
late our  religious  zeal?"  And  as  the  thought 
returned  to  him  at  intervals,  the  good  man  was 
troubled.  Once  it  was  suggested  to  his  mind, 
that  Thomas  Barnard  might  help  the  prayer- 
meeting  if  the  prayer-meeting  did  not  help 
Thomas  Barnard ;  and  then  he  wondered  what 
some  of  his  people  would  say  to  the  sugges- 
tion. 

That  prayer-meeting  had  troubled  Mr.  Man- 


202  TRANSFORMED. 

ning  for  years.  It  was  stiff  and  formal :  the 
same  people  came  year  after  year,  and  said 
the  same  things,  and  prayed  the  same  prayers. 
Mr.  Manning  did  not  believe  in  too  many  new 
things,  or  in  making  innovations  except  rarely  ; 
but  he  did  believe  in  life.  He  wanted  a  live 
prayer-meeting  and  a  live  church,  and  he  felt 
that  he  had  neither.  He  had  no  cause  to  com- 
plain of  his  people  personally :  they  were  de- 
voted to  him,  they  came  to  hear  him  preach, 
they  paid  his  salary,  they  kept  the  church  in 
good  repair ;  they  were  a  well-dressed,  decorous 
congregation  on  Sundays.  But  they  did  not 
come  to  the  prayer-meeting, — at  least,  only  a 
few.  The  spiritual  strength  of  the  church 
seemed  dormant ;  and  the  pastor  mourned  over 
the  facts,  but  failed  apparently  to  reach  their 
needs.  What  should  stir  them  ? 

Thursday  evening  came  around  again.  It 
was  a  pleasant  evening,  and  the  young  people 
were  taking  advantage  of  the  moonlight,  stroll- 
ing up  and  down  the  pleasant  walks  of  the  vil- 
lage. Just  before  the  last  bell  rang,  Thomas 
Barnard  and  his  wife  stopped  at  Mr.  Preston's 


TRANSFORMED.  203 

door :  at  least,  Mollie  went  in,  while  he  waited 
outside. 

"We  thought  maybe  you'd  let  us  go  down 
to  the  church  with  you  to-night :  we  felt  queer 
about  going  in  alone." 

"  To  the  church  ? "  said  Mrs.  Preston,  bewil- 
dered. 

"Yes,  to  the  praying-meeting.  Thomas  and 
I  have  never  been  yet,  and  he  don't  mind ; 
but  I  wanted  to  go  with  somebody  the  first 
time.  I  thought  I  wouldn't  know  where  to  sit 
if  I  went  alone." 

I  do  not  think  Mrs.  Preston  was  ever  more 
embarrassed  in  all  her  life.  If  she  had  been 
less  so,  she  would  not  have  said  what  she  did, 
though  it  was  the  truth.  She  said  afterwards, 
"  I  needn't  have  told  her  that.  I  might  better 
have  said,  what  was  also  true,  that  I  was  too 
tired  to  walk  down  to  the  church."  But  what 
she  said  was,  that  she  never  went  to  prayer- 
meeting.  And  Mrs.  Barnard's  astonishment 
was  so  evident  that  it  did  not  need  her  "Why, 
I  supposed  all  the  church-members  down  here 
at  the  village  went ! "  to  convince  Mrs.  Pres- 


204  TRANSFORMED. 

ton.  Then,  as  if  she  might  have  divined  the 
reason,  Mrs.  Barnard  added,  "  But  perhaps 
women  don't  go.  I  never  thought  of  that ! " 

But  Mrs.  Preston  could  not  hide  behind  that 
excuse,  and  assured  her  caller  that  women  did 
go  to  the  prayer-meeting  though  she  did  not  go 
herself.  Then  Mrs.  Barnard  rejoined  her  hus- 
band, and  they  made  their  way  to  the  church 
as  best  they  could. 

As  for  Mrs.  Preston,  she  was  more  disturbed 
by  the  incident  than  she  cared  to  own.  She 
was  a  bit  angry.  What  business  had  that  Bar- 
ney woman  coming  to  remind  her  of  her  duty  ? 
an  ignorant  creature  just  out  of  the  depths! 
What  if  she  didn't  go  to  the  prayer-meeting  ? 
Plenty  of  people  did  not  go.  The  prayer-meet- 
ing was  a  dull  place  ;  anyway,  that  one  was. 
She  remembered  then  another  prayer-meeting, 
away  back  in  her  girlhood  :  the  memory  took 
her  back  to  the  hour  when  she  first  opened  her 
heart  to  receive  the  loving  Saviour.  Again 
she  heard  her  father's  voice  lifted  in  praise  and 
thanksgiving  (her  father's  prayers  were  always 
begun  and  ended  with  thanksgiving) ;  she  heard 


TRANSFORMED.  205 

again  her  pastor's  voice,  with  its  burden  of  lov- 
ing entreaty,  of  gentle  admonition,  of  strong 
counsel,  and  of  inspiration  to  the  young  souls 
under  his  charge.  And  there  were  women  in 
that  prayer-meeting,  —  aged  saints,  and  young 
energetic  women,  ready  to  bear  their  part  in 
the  service  of  song  and  in  giving  words  of 
testimony  to  the  loving-kindness  of  God,  or  in 
seeking  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  by  words 
of  prayer.  Oh,  that  was  not  a  dull  prayer- 
meeting  !  She  had  taken  part  in  it  herself, 
more  than  once.  But  it  was  different  here  in 
Waltham ;  at  least,  it  used  to  be :  she  was 
forced  to  confess  that  she  didn't  know  much 
about  it,  it  was  so  long  since  she  had  been  to 
the  meeting. 

But  what  made  it  different  ?  Could  she 
make  it  any  better  if  she  went?  She  knew 
that  if  she  wanted  to  go,  her  husband  would  go 
with  her,  and  he  would  perhaps  say  something 
to  add  to  the  interest.  And  anyway  she  sup- 
posed she  ought  to  go  from  a  sense  of  duty, 
even  if  it  was  dull.  But  then  her  awakening 
conscience  told  her  that  the  place  where  Christ 


206  TRANSFORMED. 

himself  was  present  could  not  be  dull  ;  and  she 
knew  that  if  she  went  with  her  heart  filled  with 
his  love,  he  would  surely  meet  her  there,  and 
bless  her  with  an  increase  of  Christian  grace. 
"  Have  I  been  growing  in  grace  since  I  gave 
up  the  prayer-meeting?"  she  asked  herself, 
and  was  forced  to  confess  that  she  had  grown 
away  from  Christ.  Was  it  not  true  that  the 
flame  upon  the  family  altar  had  burned  low, 
that  a  chill  of  vvorldliness  had  crept  over  them, 
and  that  both  she  and  her  husband  were  drift- 
ing along  with  the  world,  carried  by  its  current 
hither  and  thither,  almost  unheeding  the  claims 
of  religion  ?  What  had  she  done  for  Christ 
of  late?  She  sent  her  children  to  Sunday 
school,  conscientiously  teaching  them  their  les- 
son ;  and  she  had  taught  little  Nan  a  prayer : 
and  that  was  all  she  could  say  for  herself.  She 
had  given  money,  it  is  true ;  but  more  from 
habit,  and  because  it  was  proper,  than  from  any 
interest  in  the  causes  to  which  she  contributed. 
And  did  she  hallow  her  sabbaths,  study  her 
Bible,  love  her  neighbor  as  herself  and  God 
supremely  ? 


TRANSFORMED.  207 

What  a  train  of  thought  her  caller  had 
started !  She  could  not  get  away  from  the 
subject.  To  think  that  she  had  been  brought 
to  confusion  by  that  woman !  But  was  the 
woman  to  blame  ?  Was  it  not  reasonable  for 
her  to  be  surprised  to  find  that  all  church- 
members  did  not  go  to  the  prayer-meeting? 
Whom  was  the  prayer-meeting  for  anyway  ?  If 
it  was  for  those  who  needed  it,  then  it  surely 
must  be  for  Mrs.  Preston.  She  began  to  think 
that  she  needed  it. 

She  was  very  sober  all  the  evening,  —  so 
much  so  that  her  husband  noticed  it,  and 
asked,  "What  is  the  matter,  Ella?"  and  then 
she  told  him  all  about  it,  and  they  talked  it 
over  together.  His  heart  was  touched,  and  he 
said,  "  She  was  right,  Ella,  and  we  ought  to  go. 
Let's  start  out  once  more,  and  go  regularly. 
Mr.  Manning  has  spoken  to  me  about  it  several 
times,  but  I  have  always  had  an  excuse :  now, 
if  you  say  so,  we  will  try  it  next  week." 

Meantime  the  Barnards  sat  in  wonder 
through  that  evening  service. 

The  opening  hymn  had  thrilled  their  hearts. 


208  TRANSFORMED. 

Grace  Norton's  sweet  voice  had  made  the 
words,  "  Sweet  hour  of  prayer,"  to  carry  a  deep 
meaning  to  these  hearts  to  whom  the  hour  and 
the  hymn  were  new.  But  there  were  some 
things  which  —  Lou  Strong  was  wont  to  say  — 
"took  the  sweetness  all  out:"  there  were  long 
prayers,  and  long  rambling  remarks,  and  there 
were  long  pauses.  Mr.  Manning  had  grown 
accustomed  to  those  pauses,  but  they  were  as 
painful  to  him  as  they  had  been  years  before 
when  he  used  to  try  to  have  them  filled.  He 
had  grown  discouraged  ;  and  nowadays  he  only 
said  now  and  then,  "  Has  any  one  a  word  for 
us  ? "  or,  "  Shall  we  have  another  season  of 
prayer  ? "  This  evening  he  was  particularly 
annoyed,  for  there  were  the  Barnards  for  the 
first  time  :  how  he  longed  for  some  one  to  say 
something  that  would  help  them  !  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  pauses  were  longer  and  more 
frequent  than  usual,  and  that  Mr.  Martin  was 
more  fault-finding  than  ever  before,  and  that 
Mr.  Graves  was  more  weary  of  this  vale  of 
tears,  and  Mr.  Sloane  more  mournful  because 
of  his  own  shortcomings.  It  seemed  to  Mr. 


TRANSFORMED.  209 

Manning  that  there  had  not  been  one  bright  or 
helpful  thing  said  all  through ;  and  even  when 
he  said,  by  way  of  bringing  out  something  to 
the  point,  "  Now,  brethren,  let  us  speak  for  a 
few  moments  of  our  encouragements.  Tell  of 
some  of  our  victories  over  sin,  or  recount  our 
causes  for  thanksgiving,"  Mr.  Mansfield  took 
occasion  to  deplore  his  own  proneness  to  yield 
to  the  power  of  Satan,  and  another  brother 
spoke  as  wide  of  the  mark  as  was  possible. 

Then  suddenly,  to  the  astonishment  of  all, 
the  long,  lank  figure  of  Thomas  Barnard  rose 
slowly  to  an  erect  position.  He  said,  — 

"You  all  know  that  it  is  only  a  little  while 
since  we  began  to  serve  the  Lord  out  to  our 
house.  And  those  who  knew  us  then  can  see 
that  the  Lord  has  been  paying  us  pretty  well. 
The  minister  asked  us  to  tell  of  some  things 
we  were  thankful  for.  I  am  thankful  for  the 
religion  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  It  has  lifted 
me  and  my  family  right  up  out  of  the  mire ;  we 
feel  the  solid  earth  under  our  feet.  We  know 
that  we  are  led  all  the  way  along,  and  when  we 
meet  the  enemy  we  don't  have  to  fight  our  bat- 


2 1 0  TRA  NS FORM  ED. 

ties  alone  :  there's  One  that  fights  for  us,  and 
gives  us  the  victory.  My  wife  and  I  hain't  got 
book-learning,  but  we  mean  to  know  the  Bible 
all  through ;  and  we  find  something  new  every 
day.  Since  the  parson  was  out  to  our  house 
one  day,  and  explained  about  the  wedding- 
garment, —  how  it  was  furnished  by  the  One 
who  gives  the  feast,  —  I've  thought  that  these 
wedding-garments  given  to  us  when  we  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  were  all  alike.  And  then 
I  read  about  that  one  whom  the  master  of  the 
feast  told  to  go  up  higher,  and  I  thought  may- 
be he  had  more  ornaments  on  his  robe.  And 
I  thought  that  I'd  like  to  get  some  ornaments 
on  my  robe ;  and  so  I  am  going  to  try  to  add 
to  my  faith,  virtue  and  all  the  rest  that  are 
mentioned  in  that  verse.  And  I  think  any- 
body that  gets  all  those  will  have  something 
better  than  the  adornment  of  jewels." 

Something  was  the  matter  with  Mr.  Man- 
ning, and  there  were  others  who  were  touched 
by  this  testimony  of  one  so  lately  an  outcast. 
But  presently  a  woman's  voice  was  lifted  in 
prayer  :  it  was  a  strange  sound  in  that  room, 


TRANSFORMED.  2 1 1 

but  I  think  many  hearts  were  carried  heaven- 
ward in  that  hour.  It  was  Mollie's  voice,  ten- 
der, earnest,  and  pleading.  The  words  were 
simple  as  a  child's  words  would  be ;  and  more 
than  one  wondered  within  themselves,  "  Who 
taught  that  woman  to  pray  ?  "  "  Where  did 
she  learn  to  use  such  pure  language?"  Ah! 
she  had  been  under  the  great  Teacher ;  she 
had  been  studying  the  pure  word  of  God ;  she 
had  copied  its  style,  and,  too,  she  had  there 
learned  what  things  she  had  need  of ;  and  she 
came  direct  to  the  source  of  supply,  and  asked 
for  what  she  wanted,  without  formality.  The 
burden  of  her  prayer  was  for  forgiveness  for 
the  past,  and  for  strength  for  each  day's  living. 
There  was  a  spirit  of  consecration  and  humble 
trust  which  touched  the  heart  of  the  pastor ; 
and  he  said  afterwards,  as  he  talked  it  over 
with  his  wife,  "  That  woman  may  be  ignorant, 
but  she  has  a  most  beautiful  and  childlike  faith. 
Would  that  we  had  more  of  it !  " 

But  a  stranger  thing  was  to  happen  in  that 
meeting.  While  Mrs.  Barnard  was  praying, 
Grace  Norton  sat  in  a  tremble  of  anxiety.  It 


212  TRANSFORMED. 

was  a  foolish  anxiety  for  Mollie.  Mollie  did 
not  need  her  sympathy,  for  she  was  not  con- 
scious of  doing  any  thing  out  of  the  way ;  but 
Grace  was  saying  to  herself,  "  Now,  if  no  other 
woman  takes  a  part  in  this  meeting,  Mrs.  Bar- 
nard will  notice  it,  and  feel  annoyed  about  it 
afterwards.  Oh,  how  I  wish  some  one  would 
follow  her !  No  one  ever  does  :  I  never  heard 
a  woman  speak  or  pray  in  our  prayer-meeting, 
excepting  old  Mrs.  Perkins.  But  I  wonder  what 
the  deacons  and  elders  would  say  if  I  should 
speak !  I  am  half  a  mind  to :  I  am  so  sorry 
for  Mrs.  Barnard  !  " 

I  think  that  Mrs.  Barnard  would  have  smiled, 
had  she  known  of  Grace  Norton's  thoughts ; 
but  she  was  never  to  know  them,  nor  was  she 
ever  to  know  that  she  had  revolutionized  that 
prayer-meeting.  The  regular  weekly  meeting 
of  Waltham  church  was  never  to  be  just  the 
same  after  that  evening.  Grace  Norton's 
thoughts  went  on  :  "  Why  shouldn't  I  say  a 
word  ?  I  always  did  when  we  lived  in  Peckham. 
I  don't  suppose  any  one  would  object,  but  the 
fact  that  it  has  not  been  the  custom  makes 


TRANSFORMED.  21 3 

it  seem  queer.  What  if  Jesus  wants  me 
to  ? " 

Presently  when  Mr.  Manning  said  for  the 
last  time,  — 

"  Has  any  one  else  a  word  for  the  Master 
before  we  close  ? " 

Grace  said  suddenly,  — 

"  Yes,  I  have  !  I  have  lived  in  Waltham  two 
years,  and  attended  this  meeting  week  after 
week,  and  I  have  never  once  spoken  a  word  for 
my  Master.  I  gave  myself  to  him  four  years 
ago,  and  I  have  ever  found  his  service  a  joy." 

'"Whosoever  shall  confess  me  before  men, 
him  will  I  confess  also  before  my  Father  which 
is  in  heaven.' "  It  was  the  pastor's  voice  that 
repeated  these  words,  as  soon  as  Grace's  voice 
died  away. 

Then  Mrs.  Colonel  Strong,  having  something 
of  the  feeling  for  Grace  which  Grace  had  for 
Mollie  Barnard,  repeated  softly,  — 

'"In  thy  presence  there  is  fulness  of  joy; 
at  thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for  ever- 
more.' " 

"Seems  to  me,  you  and  Grace  took  a   new 


2 1 4  TRA  NSFORMED. 

departure  to-night,"  said  Lou  Strong  as  she 
and  her  mother  walked  home  together. 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Barnard  was  the  one  who  led 
off,"  replied  Mrs.  Strong.  "  I  know  Mr.  Man- 
ning has  always  wanted  us  all  to  feel  free  to 
join  in  the  exercises  of  the  Thursday-evening 
meeting  ;  but  some  way  we  have  fallen  out  of 
the  habit  of  it,  or  we  were  never  in  the  habit, 
I  don't  know  which.  But  to-night  when  Mrs. 
Barnard,  not  knowing  the  ways  of  the  people, 
broke  the  ice,  I  thought  it  a  good  time  to  take, 
as  you  say,  a  new  departure." 

To  the  credit  of  the  brethren,  let  me  record 
that  they  stopped  after  the  meeting  to  shake 
hands  with  Mr.  Barnard  and  his  wife.  One 
brother  said,  — 

"  I  am  glad,  brother  Barnard,  that  you  found 
strength  to  take  up  your  cross  to-night." 

Mr.  Barnard  looked  bewildered.  "I  don't 
think  I  know  what  you  mean.  You  know  I 
haven't  learned  all  the  ways  of  Christians  yet : 
I'm  only  a  beginner." 

"  Why,  I  mean,  I  am  glad  you  felt  that  you 
I  could  take  part  in  our  meeting ;  to  some,  that 
seems  a  great  cross." 


TRANSFORMED.  215 

"Oh!  I  didn't  understand  at  first.  Well, 
now,  I  dunno  :  I  can't  quite  understand  that. 
I  was  down  here  once  to  a  political  meeting, 
and  I  noticed  that  it  wa'n't  no  cross  for  folks 
to  say  what  they  wanted  to.  Everybody  there 
seemed  to  want  to  talk,  and  show  what  they 
thought  was  the  best  way  to  push  the  interests 
of  the  party.  Some  of  you  couldn't  say  enough 
about  your  candidate,  telling  how  much  he  had 
done  for  the  country.  Now,  it  strikes  me  that 
religion  ought  to  go  ahead  of  politics." 

"  Well,  that  is  hardly  a  parallel  case,"  said 
the  brother. 

"  Parallel  ?  Because  a  thing  is  in  an  upper 
tier,  ain't  no  reason  why  it  can't  be  parallel," 
said  Barnard.  "  I  didn't  count  on  getting  a 
chance  to  speak  in  this  meeting,  because  I 
thought  you'd  all  have  so  much  to  say,  that 
there  would  be  no  time  for  me ;  but  my  wife 
and  I  we  thought  it  would  be  worth  a  good 
deal  to  hear  the  experience  of  men  who  had 
been  serving  the  Master  for  years.  I  hope  we 
didn't  either  of  us  take  time  that  somebody 
else  wanted." 


2 1 6  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Oh,  no,  brother  Barnard  !  we  were  glad  to 
hear  from  you,"  said  the  pastor.  Then  Thomas 
followed  his  wife  out,  and  as  they  went  home 
they  talked  of  the  meeting. 

"  It  was  a  good  place  to  be  in,"  said  Mollie. 

"Yes,  though  it  wa'n't  just  as  I  thought  it 
would  be.  I  expected  to  see  a  room-full,  and 
thought  everybody  would  have  something  to 
say.  I  don't  see  how  a  man  who  loves  the  Lord 
can  keep  still  when  the  parson  calls  on  'em  to 
witness  for  the  Lord." 

"Well,  I  didn't  think  much  about  other  peo- 
ple," said  his  wife.  "  I  felt  that  my  Lord  was 
there,  and  that  was  enough  for  me  !  I  don't 
think  I  could  have  prayed  if  I  had  remembered 
about  the  people." 

"  I  agree  with  you  that  it  was  a  good  place 
to  be  in.  I  only  mean  that  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  others  —  some  of  them  —  didn't  know 
that  the  Lord  was  right  there.  If  a  man 
knew  that  he  was  right  in  the  presence  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  how  could  he  complain  of  the 
withdrawal  of  his  favor  and  of  walking  under  a 
cloud  ?  Why,  I  thought  the  way  was  never  so 


TRANSFORMED.  21? 

bright.  It  seemed  as  though  everybody  must 
feel  and  almost  see  the  Lord  right  there  in  the 
midst." 

"  That  sweet-faced  girl  knew  he  was  there," 
said  Mollie. 

Meantime  a  little  knot  of  people  were  talking 
of  the  new-comers.  At  last  Mr.  Manning  said 
as  he  turned  away,  — 

"Brethren,  it  behooves  us  to  see  to  it  that 
we  remove  the  stumbling-blocks  out  of  the  way 
of  these  people.  They  are  evidently  expecting 
to  find  in  us  the  same  mind  which  was  also  in 
Christ  Jesus." 


2 1 8  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

"  But  to  do  good  and  to  communicate,  forget  not." 

"  I  DON'T  see  any  call  for  doing  it.  We  have 
never  had  a  Christmas-tree  since  I've  been  in 
the  school." 

"  But  that  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not 
have  one  if  we  want  to,"  said  Grace  Norton. 

"But  I  do  not  see  any  need  of  having  one," 
persisted  Cora  Butler.  "It  will  be  just  an 
awful  bother,  and  we  are  all  as  busy  as  we  can 
be  with  our  own  Christmas  work.  I'm  sure  I 
have  enough  to  do.  I'm  making  an  elegant 
screen  for  Fred, — just  perfectly  elegant!  — 
besides  all  the  rest  of  my  gifts.  I  can't  see 
how  I  could  give  a  minute  to  a  tree  for  the 
Sunday  school." 

"  Of  course  we  are  all  pretty  busy,  but  I 
think  we  can  put  in  a  few  hours'  work  for  our 


TRANSFORMED.  2 1 9 

church  and  Sunday  school.  You  see,  we  have 
some  new  scholars  who  never  have  any  Christ- 
mas at  home,  and  it  is  thought  that  this  will 
encourage  them." 

"  Who  ? " 

"  Well,  the  Barnards  for  one  family." 

"  Dear  me  !  They  don't  need  encouragement. 
They  come  every  Sunday,  rain  or  shine. 
There's  that  little  Nan,  she  plods  along  under 
an  old  umbrella.  The  other  morning  I  meant 
to  stay  at  home,  it  rained  so  hard,  and  my  old 
suit  looked  shabby,  and  I  didn't  want  to  get  my 
new  velvet  wet,  so  I  planned  to  have  a  quiet 
cosey  time ;  but  don't  you  think,  while  I  was 
peeping  through  the  blinds  to  see  if  that  was 
really  Fred  Gray  going  down  in  the  rain,  I  saw 
that  little  midget  trudging  along  through  the 
mud !  If  I  had  not  seen  her,  it  would  have 
been  all  right;  but  after  that  I  just  had  to  get 
ready  and  go  down  to  Sunday  school.  You 
know  she  is  in  my  class.  No,  indeed  !  I  don't 
want  to  encourage  the  Barnards  :  they  are  too 
much  for  me  already." 

"  Well,  little  Nan  hasn't  lived  in  vain,"  said 


220  TRANSFORMED. 

Lou  Strong,  "if  she  has  for  once  stirred  our 
Cora  from  out  of  her  self-indulgence." 

"The  Barnards  may  stir  us  all  yet,"  said 
Grace ;  while  Cora  curled  her  lip  slightly,  and 
said,  — 

"  I  don't  care  to  be  stirred,  as  you  say,  by 
that  sort  of  people." 

"  No,"  retorted  Lou :  "  Cora  wants  a  more 
aristocratic  breeze  to  waft  her  way,  if  she  must 
be  moved  out  of  her  complacency." 

"  But  to  come  back  to  the  subject,"  said 
Grace.  "  We  have  the  Barnards  among  us.  and 
there  is  another  family  that  they  have  brought 
with  them  from  over  that  way ;  and  if  they  do 
not  need  any  encouragement  to  come,  they  need 
to  be  taught  about  Christmas  ;  and  we  want  to 
give  them  a  nice  time,  and  make  the  birthday 
of  our  Saviour  an  interesting  time  to  them. 
The  fact  is,  I  think  we  are  a  lazy  set  in  our 
church.  I  was  over  at  Olympia  for  a  week. 
They  are  just  wide  awake  over  there  :  they  have 
a  woman's  missionary  society,  and  a  girls'  band 
and"  — 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know !     And   Marian  Kingsley 


TRANSFORMED.  221 

wanted  to  run  a  band  here,  but  I  told  her  it  was 
of  no  use  to  try.  You  know  the  old  folks 
always  run  things  here  anyway." 

"Well,  let  me  finish  my  story.  They  have 
a  Sunday-school  missionary  society,  and  a  tem- 
perance band,  and  they  are  all  just  as  wide 
awake  as  they  can  be.  And  I  want  to  tell  you, 
Cora  Butler,  that  the  girls  do  as  much  fancy- 
work  as  you  do,  besides !  If  we  weren't  half 
asleep,  we  might  do  something  as  well  as  they. 
I  have  been  vexed  a  dozen  times  to  think  that 
we  didn't  let  Marian  Kingsley  go  ahead,  and 
we  follow  on." 

"Marian  Kingsley  has  left  her  mark  here," 
said  Lou  Strong.  "  She  got  that  little  Nan 
Barnard  out,  and  Nan  has  moved  upon  the 
hitherto  unruffled  waters  of  Cora  Butler's  soul  ; 
and  who  knows  where  it  will  end  ?  " 

No  one  appeared  to  know  where  the  idea  of 
having  a  Christmas-tree  originated  Grace  Nor- 
ton said  to  the  girls,  "  We  were  talking  about 
it  at  Mr.  Preston's  the  other  evening."  Then 
presently  it  began  to  be  remarked,  "  If  we  have 
a  tree  for  our  Sunday  school."  You  all  know 


222  TRANSFORMED. 

how  such  things  sometimes  grow  from  an  idea 
which  lodges  itself  in  the  brain  of  some  quiet 
but  determined  worker :  a  remark  here,  another 
there,  and  the  thought  gets  a  foot-hold  in  other 
brains,  and  presently,  when  the  public  pulse 
beats  high  with  expectation  and  interest,  there 
comes  a  time  for  action.  Grace  Norton  was  a 
demure  little  lady,  but  she  was  learning  to  man- 
age Waltham  people  ;  and  she  managed  them 
into  having  a  Christmas-tree,  and  to  this  day 
they  do  not  know  it.  Whatever  objection  arose 
found  this  ever-ready  reply,  "There's  the  little 
Barnards,  you  know :  we  want  to  give  them  a 
good  time." 

When  Grace  made  this  remark  in  her  father's 
hearing,  he  laughed  and  said,  — 

"  Why  don't  you  young  people  say  that  you 
want  a  good  time  yourselves,  and  that  you  will 
let  the  Barnards  in  fora  share  ?  Wouldn't  that 
be  nearer  the  truth  ? " 

"  No :  I  think  we  did  start  with  the  idea  of 
giving  those  poor  children  a  good  time,  but  we 
are  likely  to  enjoy  it  ourselves  too." 

"  Why  did  you  think  of  the  Barnards  ? " 


TRANSFORMED.  223 

"  Why  ?  Because  they  are  so  poor,  and  we 
thought  they  would  not  be  likely  to  have  any 
Christmas  unless  we  gave  it  to  them." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Norton,  "they  are  poor; 
but  Mr.  Barnard  pays  more  towards  the  minis- 
ter's salary  than  I  do." 

"  O  father  !     You  don't  mean  it ! " 

"  It  is  true,  Grace." 

"  But  I  don't  understand.  It  ought  not  to  be 
true.  If  it  is  a  fact,  then  —  Don't  you  think 
it  ought  to  be  different  ?" 

"But  would  you  be  willing  to  make  sacrifices, 
—  for  instance,  to  dress  like  the  Barnards,  —  for 
the  sake  of  having  your  father  live  up  to  the 
Bible  rule  of  giving  a  tenth  of  his  income  ?  " 

"  A  tenth  !  I  don't  understand,"  said  Grace. 

"  Why,  many  people  nowadays  think  that  the 
old  Jewish  law  of  the  tithe  is  still  binding  upon 
the  Church  ;  and  many  who  do  not  believe  it 
is  binding  have  adopted  it,  because  they  think 
it  a  good  rule,  and  about  a  fair  proportion 
for  people  with  moderate  incomes.  Some  way 
our  brother  Barnard  found  out  this  rule,  and 
straightway  adopted  it ;  and  that  is  why  he 
{lives  more  than  I  do." 


224  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Father,  I  never  heard  of  it  before ;  at  least, 
I  never  thought  about  it.  But  if  it  is  the  right 
thing  to  do,  then  we  must  set  about  doing  it. 
We  wouldn't  have  to  dress  quite  like  the  Bar- 
nards,  either,  for  I  know  how  to  make  pretty 
things  out  of  almost  nothing.  And  anyway,  if 
it  is  right  to  give  tenths,  we  must  do  it ! " 

Ah,  Thomas  Barnard !  Who  would  have 
thought  that  your  influence  would  reach  out, 
and  touch  the  heart  of  dainty  Grace  Norton, 
and  lead  her  to  a  consecration  of  a  set  portion 
of  her  income  to  the  cause  of  her  Master? 
Farther  even  than  chat  it  reached :  the  princi- 
ple having  found  a  place  in  her  own  heart  and 
practice,  she  taught  it  to  her  Sunday-school 
class,  and  who  shall  say  where  the  influence 
shall  end  ? 

I  do  not  propose  to  describe  that  Christmas- 
tree,  or  to  tell  you  about  the  exercises  and  the 
enjoyments  of  the  evening.  These  matters  in 
no  wise  differed  from  the  usual  order.  But  just 
an  incident  or  two  connected  with  the  festival 
may  show  something  of  its  effect  upon  one  fam- 
ily, and  upon  the  young  people  themselves. 


TRANSFORMED.  22$ 

Of  course  there  were  committee-meetings,  and 
it  was  wonderful  how  many  of  these  Cora  But- 
ler managed  to  attend  ;  and,  indeed,  the  interest 
which  she  managed  to  get  up  over  the  affair 
was  a  source  of  amused  remark  among  the  girls. 
Said  Lou  Strong,  — 

"I  told  you,  Grace,  that  if  you  could  get 
Fred  Gray  into  this  thing,  you  would  make  a 
good  worker  out  of  Cora  Butler." 

"  Well,  Cora  is  a  good  worker,"  replied  Grace. 

"Yes,  only  she  wants  her  own  way." 

"  So  do  the  most  of  ,us." 

"  Maybe  :  we  do  not  all  show  it  quite  so 
plainly,"  said  Lou. 

Cora's  love  of  having  her  own  way  was  shown 
in  the  discussion  of  the  sort  of  gifts  which 
should  be  put  upon  the  tree :  — 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  give  the  Barnard  chil- 
dren useful  things." 

"Of  course,"  said  Lou:  "we  are  all  going  to 
have  useful  things.  I  am  coaxing  papa  to  give 
me  a  diamond  ring  :  I  think  that  will  be  very 
useful." 

"  I  mean,  that  as  they  are  so  very  poor,  and 


226  TRANSFORMED, 

probably  need  clothing,  it  would  be  very  foolish 
to  give  them  such  things  as  you  are  talking 
about  for  the  others." 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you  exactly,"  replied 
Grace.  "  To  be  sure,  they  are  dressed  very 
plainly,  but  they  do  not  seem  to  be  in  absolute 
need." 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  There's  that  little 
Nan,  she  wears  mittens  to  Sunday  school,  and 
I  don't  believe  she  has  a  pair  of  gloves." 

"  Are  gloves  so  important  ?  "  and  Grace  held 
up  her  own  dainty  mittens.  "  Now,  it  seems  to 
me  that  those  children  will  enjoy  gifts  like  the 
other  children,  more  than  they  would  gifts  of 
clothing.  If  the  family  need  help  of  that  sort, 
let  the  church  be  notified,  and  they  can  be 
helped  out  of  the  poor-fund.  But  we'll  give 
them  dolls  and  toys  on  the  tree.  There  are 
some  lovely  vases  at  Burton's,  and  I  want  to 
get  a  pair  for  Mrs.  Barnard." 

"Vases  !  Why,  Grace  Norton,  do  you  know 
what  kind  of  a  place  those  Barnards  live  in  ? " 

"  I  know  that  their  house  is  a  poor  place 
enough." 


TRANSFORMED.  22/ 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  where  they  would  put 
a  pair  of  vases.  Why,  they  haven't  a  thing  to 
correspond ! " 

"Can't  help  it !  They  need  just  such  things 
to  help  educate  them.  Even  if  they  keep  them 
in  a  box  under  the  bed,  they  will  help.  Those 
children  will  prize  a  picture,  or  a  bit  of  china, 
because  it  is  a  gift ;  and  every  time  they  bring 
it  out  they  will  have  a  lesson  of  beauty  and  re- 
finement ;  and  after  a  while  they  will  begin  to 
think  about  a  better  house,  and  things  to  cor- 
respond. And  they  will  be  working  towards 
better  things  every  way." 

"  O  Grace  !     You  are  visionary  ! " 

Grace  laughed  "  No,  indeed !  I  am  a  prac- 
tical person,  and  as  methodical  as  the  multipli- 
cation-table." 

"  Well,  if  you  have  any  method  by  which  you 
can  make  twenty-five  dollars  do  the  work  of  one 
hundred,  we  hope  you  will  produce  it." 

"  Never  you  fear  !  I'll  bring  out  all  my  meth- 
ods as  they  are  needed." 

With  much  talk  and  some  hard  work,  and  I 
think  without  any  serious  differences,  the  thing 


228  TRANSFORMED. 

was  accomplished  ;  and  the  girls  met  the  next 
morning  to  clear  up,  full  of  congratulations  for 
themselves  and  each  other  over  their  first  effort. 

"  What  a  good  time  we  have  had  all  through ! " 
said  one  and  another. 

"  I  wish  we  had  gone  on  when  Marian  Kings- 
ley  was  here,  and  organized  a  mission-band. 
She  knew  all  about  how  to  do  it.  But  I  suppose 
we  could  find  out." 

"  Will  you  take  the  Barnards  for  your  first 
experiment  ? "  asked  Cora  Butler. 

"Seems  to  me  the  Barnards  rest  heavily  upon 
your  mind,"  said  Lou  Strong.  "  No,  we  won't 
take  them  :  we  will  stop  nearer  home.  We  will 
try  to  convert  you  to  a  way  of  looking  upon 
poor  people  as  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood,  and 
having  the  same  feelings,  as  we  ourselves." 

"  What  do  you  mean  now  ? "  asked  Cora, 
"What  dreadful  thing  have  I  been  saying?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  your  idea  of  gifts  for  poor 
children  worked,"  replied  Lou.  "Last  night 
when  Stella  Barnard's  name  was  called,  and  she 
had  a  lovely  doll,  Nan's  face  was  a  perfect 
glow :  she  waited  expectant  until  her  name  was 


TRANSFORMED.  229 

called,  and  stood  up  to  receive — a  pair  of  stock- 
ings !  She  looked  ready  to  cry  :  I  thought  she 
was  going  to  throw  them  across  the  church." 

"  But  she  had  a  doll  too,"  interrupted  Cora. 

"  Yes  :  wait  until  I  get  through,  please.  I 
am  telling  you  this,  so  as  to  convince  you  that 
your  plan  would  not  have  worked  well.  Nan 
had  the  stockings  up  ready  to  throw,  when 
Stella — the  little  darling! — whispered,  'Don't, 
Nan  !  you  may  have  part  of  my  dolly.'  Then 
she  brightened,  and  admired  and  handled  ten- 
derly Stella's  doll.  But  when  her  turn  came 
again,  and  she  found  she  really  had  one  of  her 
own,  I  truly  thought  the  child  would  have  to 
be  carried  home  on  a  stretcher,  she  looked  so 
white." 

"  O  Lou !  how  dreadfully  you  do  exagge- 
rate !  "  said  Grace. 

"  Well,  I  want  to  prove  to  Cora  that  the 
Barnarcls  don't  need  a  missionary  half  as  much 
as  some  of  us  do,"  replied  Lou,  laughing. 

Mrs.  Colonel  Strong  was  there,  not  to  help, 
but  she  had  come  in  to  look  after  certain  arti- 
cles which  she  had  loaned  the  girls,  and  which 


230  TRANSFORMED. 

she  was  sure  Lou  would  forget.  She  had  lin- 
gered a  little,  watching  the  girls,  and  waiting 
for  the  carriage  ;  and  now  she  said,  — 

"  The  oldest  Barnard  boy  is  in  my  class,  you 
remember ;  and  he  tells  me  there  are  quite  a 
number  of  children  and  young  people  around 
them  and  farther  on  across  the  swamp,  who 
never  go  to  church  or  Sunday  school  because 
they  say  it  is  too  far  to  come  here.  I  was 
thinking  it  might  be  a  good  plan  to  start  a 
mission-school  out  there.  There  must  be  a 
schoolhouse  where  you  could  hold  the  service. 
I  did  more  than  think,  for  I  asked  the  colonel 
about  it ;  and  he  said  that  Patrick  could  drive 
out  every  Sunday  afternoon,  and  take  three  or 
four  teachers.  Then,  to  make  sure  of  Patrick, 
I  spoke  to  him  ;  and  he  said  he  had  a  brother 
out  there,  and  he  had  been  wanting  to  get  the 
gospel  to  his  family  for  a  long  time.  Now,  if 
you  young  people  want  to  take  up  the  work  out 
there,  the  way  is  prepared  so  far. 

"It  seems,"  continued  Mrs.  Strong,  "that 
there  is  quite  a  settlement  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
sawmill,  made  up  of  the  lumbermen's  families 


TRANSFORMED  23! 

and  the  wood-choppers.  It  is  about  a  mile  be- 
yond Barnard's.  The  overseer  at  the  mill  — 
you  know  the  colonel  has  an  interest  in  the 
property  —  has  a  large  family  ;  and  though  they 
live  respectably,  they  never  go  to  church  at  all. 
They  could  come  here  ;  for  they  have  the  use  of 
a  span  of  horses,  and  I  presume  go  off  driving 
every  Sunday.  There's  a  work  out  there  that 
ought  to  have  been  taken  up  long  ago." 

Was  that  ice  of  aristocratic  reserve  in  which 
Waltham  church  seemed  to  have  been  incased, 
about  to  be  broken  ? 


232  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

"What  profit?" 

CORA  BUTLER  had  a  friend  from  the  city 
spending  a  few  days  with  her.  It  was  Sunday 
afternoon  ;  and  Cora,  who  had  donned  a  wrap- 
per and  slippers  and  taken  to  the  couch  imme- 
diately after  dinner,  was  saying,  — 

"  I  am  so  tired  !  That  class  will  be  the  death 
of  me.  I  don't  know  why  I  was  so  foolish  as 
to  undertake  it.  I  never  should  have  done  it  if 
Mr.  Manning  and  Mr.  Williams  had  not  urged 
me.  They  made  it  appear  that  it  was  my  duty. 
I  don't  believe  that  it  is  a  person's  duty  to  do 
a  thing  for  which  no  talent  has  been  given. 
Now,  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  teaching." 

"But,  Cora,  I  never  supposed  that  it  required 
much  talent  to  teach  a  Sunday-school  class. 
Why,  the  most  of  the  people  who  teach  in  Sun- 


TRANSFORMED.  233 

day  school,  whom  I  know  any  thing  about,  are 
very  commonplace  sort  of  people." 

"  Commonplace  or  not,  if  they  know  how  to 
teach,  they  know  more  than  I  do.  Why,  some 
of  my  little  girls  know  more  than  I  do.  Now, 
to-day  the  lesson  was  about  Joseph,  and  that  lit- 
tle Miller  girl  said  that  Cleopatra's  Needle  was 
supposed  to  have  been  standing  before  some 
old  temple  in  Egypt  when  Joseph  was  ruler. 
Truly  I  didn't  know  what  she  was  talking  about. 
Just  think  of  it !  Of  course  I  didn't  let  the 
children  see  that  I  didn't  know  what  she  was 
talking  about,  but  all  the  same  I  didn't.  And 
that  Barnard  girl  puzzles  me  with  her  questions. 
I  imagine  that  the  whole  family  make  a  regu- 
lar business  of  studying  the  lesson.  I  don't 
get  time  to  study  it.  We  get  up  so  late  Sun- 
day mornings,  that  there  is  scarcely  time  to  get 
ready  for  church.  It  takes  me  so  long  to  comb 
my  hair  !  I  can  spend  an  hour  over  the  dress- 
ing of  my  hair  with  the  utmost  satisfaction.  I 
don't  know  but  I  ought  to  give  up  that  class. 
I  would,  only  Fred  would  laugh  at  me  :  he  said 
I  would  soon  get  tired  of  it,  and  I  am  tired  to 


234  TRANSFORMED. 

death  of  it ;  but  I  hate  to  be  laughed  at,  or  to 
hear  him  say  '  I  told  you  so  ! '  I  guess  I'll  go 
on  a  while  longer ;  maybe  I'll  get  along  better. 
I  thought  this  morning,  when  I  was  hurrying 
around  trying  to  get  a  chance  to  see  what  the 
lesson  was  about,  that  I  would  surely  study 
next  Sunday's  lesson  this  afternoon.  But  I 
am  too  tired.  I  must  find  an  hour  for  it  during 
the  week." 

"  Don't  you  have  teachers'  meetings  ?  "  asked 
her  friend.  "  I  think  they  have  them  in  our 
church ;  though,  as  I  am  not  a  teacher,  I  never 

go." 

"  Oh,  yes !  and  Mr.  Williams  makes  a  great 
fuss  about  them.  He  is  forever  at  me  to  go, 
and  I  promised  that  if  possible  I  would  go  this 
week ;  but,  as  I  came  out  of  Sunday  school,  I 
met  Dell  Northrup,  and  she  stopped  to  say  that 
her  cousin  from  Baltimore  was  spending  a  few 
days  with  her,  and  she  wanted  to  have  a  few 
friends  to  meet  her  to-morrow  evening.  I 
promised  to  go,  and  take  you.  Her  cousin  was 
with  her,  and  I  was  introduced  :  she  is  a  very 
stylish  girl.  Of  course  I  will  have  to  go  there  : 


TRANSFORMED.  235 

it  would  not  be  courteous  to  decline.  And  I 
am  sorry  that  it  is  the  night  for  the  teachers' 
meeting.  The  idea  of  teachers'  meetings  is  some- 
thing new  here ;  at  least,  I  never  heard  of  them 
until  lately.  Seems  as  if  our  church  was  run- 
ning a  great  many  new  things  nowadays.  It 
makes  one  feel  stirred  up,  and  there  is  scarcely 
an  evening  left  for  any  thing  outside  of  the 
church.  I  don't  know  what  has  come  over 
the  people." 

The  "  few  friends  "  who  were  invited  to  meet 
the  Baltimore  cousin  included  Fred  Gray,  who 
greeted  Miss  Butler  with  a  bit  of  good-natured 
sarcasm. 

"  I  am  surprised  to  meet  you  here,  Miss 
Cora :  I  supposed  you  would  be  at  your  teach- 
ers' meeting." 

"  Because  you  do  not  do  your  duty  at  all,  you 
need  not  criticise  me  for  half  doing  mine,"  she 
retorted.  "  There's  a  great  deal  more  reason 
why  you  should  be  a  Sunday-school  teacher 
than  why  I  should." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that." 

"  I  do.  There's  only  one  reason  why  you 
should  not  be  one,  anyway." 


236  TRANSFORMED. 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"You  think  too  much  of  Fred  Gray's  com- 
fort." 

"I  see,"  he  replied,  laughing,  though  he  felt 
the  thrust ;  "  and  you  are  ready  to  sacrifice  self 
upon  the  Sunday-school  altar.  It  looks  like 
it!" 

At  breakfast  the  next  morning,  Mrs.  Butler 
inquired  if  they  had  a  pleasant  time ;  to  which 
Cora  responded, — 

"  Oh,  lovely !  Miss  Blakeslee  is  charming. 
And,  mamma,  do  you  think  I  can  have  just  a 
very  few  here  to-morrow  evening  ?  " 

"I  see  no  objection;  that  is,  if  you  do  not 
wish  a  very  elaborate  entertainment." 

"Nothing  more  than  we  can  order  from 
Hummel's.  We  won't  ask  many ;  and  we'll 
have  dancing,  and  turn  the  little  sewing-room 
into  a  whist-parlor  for  the  evening.  There  are 
a  few  who  always  prefer  a  game  to  dancing." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mrs.  Butler. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Cora,"  remarked  her  guest, 
"  that  you  dance  more  here  in  Waltham  than 
you  used  to.  I  don't  remember  that  we  had 


TRANSFORMED.  237 

dancing  anywhere  that  I  went,  the  last  time  I 
visited  you." 

"Well,  I  think  we  do  dance  more,  though 
there  are  very  few  houses  where  it  is  intro- 
duced even  now." 

"  I  noticed  that  your  friend  Mr.  Gray  did  not 
dance  last  evening." 

"  No :  he  says  he  has  given  up  dancing.  I 
can't  always  tell  just  what  he  means.  He  says 
he  is  getting  old,  and  that  dancing  is  unbecom- 
ing in  a  staid  business-man  ;  and  he  goes  on 
with  a  lot  of  nonsense  about  his  dignity,  and 
all  that.  But  I  believe  that  Marian  Kingsley 
made  a  convert  of  him  last  winter." 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  Cora  went  out 
to  give  some  invitations ;  and  in  giving  an  ac- 
count of  her  calls  and  adventures  she  said,  — 

"  And  don't  you  think,  I  met  Mr.  Williams  ! 
He  said  he  expected  to  see  me  at  the  teachers' 
meeting  last  evening.  I  told  him  how  it  was, 
but  some  people  are  so  stupid !  I  really  think 
the  man  could  not  see  that  I  had  to  go  to  Dell's. 
He  said  that  if  one  made  it  a  point  to  go  to  the 
meeting,  and  set  Monday  evening  apart,  it 


238  TRANSFORMED. 

could  be  considered  as  an  engagement,  and 
would  be  accepted  as  an  excuse  as  much  as  a 
party-engagement.  Did  any  one  ever  hear  such 
stuff !  Of  course  it  would  be  an  easy  way  to 
learn  something  about  the  lesson,  if  one  could 
only  find  the  time  to  go ;  but  there  is  always 
something  coming  up  to  prevent  me  from  going. 
I  mean  to  try  to  get  away  next  week,  just  to 
see  what  the  meeting  that  they  make  such  an 
ado  about  is  like.  But  I  am  sure  I  don't  know 
how  I  am  to  get  the  lesson  this  week :  we  have 
engagements  up  to  Saturday." 

"  This  evening,"  suggested  Mrs.  Butler. 

"  Oh  !  didn't  I  tell  you  ?  Fred  invited  us  to 
the  concert  over  at  Brighton.  And,  mamma,  I 
asked  him  to  go  early,  so  that  I  could  run  in  to 
Hummel's  and  give  our  order." 

"  That  is  very  fortunate,"  replied  Mrs.  Butler. 
"There  seems  to  be  considerable  going  on  this 
week.  It  is  fortunate,  Alice,  that  your  visit 
happened  just  now,  for  we  are  apt  to  be  rather 
dull  here  in  Waltham.  Is  Mrs.  Jewell's  party 
Thursday  evening?" 

"  Yes ;  and  it  will  be  a  great  bother,  for  of 


TRANSFORMED.  239 

course  we  shall  have  to  go  to  prayer-meeting 
first.  I  wish  things  didn't  mix  so !  I  hate  to 
dress  for  a  party,  and  then  go  to  church  in  a 
great  wrap  to  cover  the  party-dress.  One  gets 
so  mussed,  and  I  like  to  go  to  parties  fresh  from 
the  toilet-room." 

"But  why  do  you  have  to  go  to  prayer-meet- 
ing this  week  ? "  asked  her  friend.  "  If,  as  you 
say,  this  is  an  unusual  time,  I  suppose  it  does 
not  often  happen  that  the  two  come  together." 

"Well,  I  have  always  been  in  the  habit  of 
going  to  the  Thursday-evening  meeting,  and  I 
should  not  feel  quite  easy  in  my  conscience  if 
I  did  not  go.  And  Mr.  Manning  would  look  at 
me,  the  next  time  I  saw  him,  if  he  knew  —  and 
he  would  know  —  that  I  went  to  Mrs.  Jewell's 
and  not  to  the  meeting.  Of  course  in  a  city  it 
would  be  different,  but  in  a  little  place  like  this 
everybody  knows  what  everybody  else  is  doing 
every  hour  in  the  week." 

As  Cora  said,  the  week  was  full  of  engage- 
ments ;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  when  Cora 
Butler  awakened  the  next  sabbath  morning,  her 
first  words  were,  - — 


240  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Dear  me !  I  am  too  tired  to  get  up  this 
morning.  If  it  were  not  for  that  Sunday-school 
class,  I  would  lie  in  bed.  I  have  not  looked  at 
the  lesson.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  have 
time  last  evening,  but  I  knew  it  would  never 
do  not  to  accept  Minnie's  invitation  after  going 
to  the  other  places." 

"But  wasn't  it  a  queer  night  for  a  party?" 
queried  her  friend. 

"Well,  you  see,  Miss  Blakeslee  is  going 
home  to-morrow  morning ;  and  Minnie  said, 
when  she  gave  the  invitation,  that  she  knew  it 
was  a  bad  night,  but  we  had  been  so  full  of 
engagements  all  the  week  that  she  couldn't  get 
in  a  visit  from  Miss  Blakeslee ;  and  as  her 
father  and  Judge  Blakeslee  were  old  friends, 
she  felt  that  she  ought  to  pay  her  some  atten- 
tion ;  and  she  said  we  would  break  up  early. 
But,  dear  me  !  The  clock  struck  twelve  before 
I  dreamed  it  could  be  near  that  time.  And 
what  a  time  we  had  getting  away  !  " 

"  Yes,  there  were  so  many  last  words,  and  so 
many  delays  in  the  dressing-room.  I  peeped 
at  my  watch  just  as  we  were,  starting,  and  it 
was  one  o'clock." 


TRANSFORMED.  241 

"  Yes,"  responded  Cora;  "and  wasn't  it  dread- 
ful to  hear  the  clock  chime  out  twelve,  right  in 
the  midst  of  the  dancing!  Oh,  dear!  I  must 
get  up.  I  wonder  what  that  lesson  is  about, 
anyway.  There's  that  book  Miss  Blakeslee 
lent  me :  I  haven't  quite  finished  it.  I  must 
run  over  the  last  chapter,  and  see  how  it  ends ; 
for  I  promised  to  leave  it  on  the  way  to  church 
this  morning.  I  read  all  the  afternoon  yester- 
day while  you  were  out  with  mamma,  but  I  did 
not  quite  finish  it.  One  of  my  Sunday-school 
scholars  was  here,  and  said  her  sister  was  sick 
and  wanted  to  see  me.  The  idea !  What 
would  /  say  to  a  sick  child  ?  I  didn't  know 
but  it  might  be  some  infectious  disease ;  and  I 
couldn't  have  gone  anyway,  for  I  had  promised 
to  return  that  book  this  morning.  I  told  the 
boy  to  go  to  Mr.  Manning:  it  is  his  business  to 
visit  the  sick.  Pity  sakes  !  there  goes  the  sec- 
ond bell,  and  I  am  not  half  dressed.  I  shall 
not  get  a  minute  to  look  at  that  lesson.  If 
Mr.  Williams  wouldn't  make  such  a  commotion 
about  it,  I  would  teach  them  the  Command- 
ments or  something  that  I  do  know  about ;  but 


242  TRANSFORMED. 

he  thinks  the  International  Lesson — whatever 
that  may  mean  —  must  be  taught  anyway, 
whether  it  is  adapted  to  children  or  not.  I 
wonder  if  that  child  is  very  sick.  I  suppose 
I  ought  to  have  gone  :  do  you  think  I  ought  ?" 

"I  am  sure  I  cannot  judge:  you  certainly 
would  not  want  to  run  any  risk  of  taking  a 
fever,  or  any  thing  like  that." 

"  I  know  that's  it,"  said  Cora,  catching  at  the 
excuse.  "  I  wonder  why  the  child  sent  for  me. 
I  am  sure  I  haven't  been  such  a  faithful  teacher 
that  any  of  my  scholars  should  suppose  I  could 
help  them." 

"  But  if  she  sent  for  you,  she  must  have 
wanted  you.  Perhaps  your  teaching  is  better 
than  you  think." 

"  No,  it  isn't !  You  know  Cora  Butler  well 
enough  to  know  that  she  always  thinks  as  well 
as  possible  of  herself.  She  is  not  particularly 
humble  or  modest.  But  where  is  my  Quarterly  ? 
I  must  take  a  look  at  the  title  of  the  lesson,  if 
no  more." 

Now,  do  you  wonder  that  about  this  time  Mr. 
Williams  said  to  his  wife  in  a  wearied  tone,  — 


TRANSFORMED.  243 

"  I  am  quite  discouraged  about  Miss  Butler's 
class,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  about  Miss  But- 
ler. She  disappoints  me.  Her  class  keeps  up 
as  to  numbers;  and  I  think  that,  with  all  her 
faults,  there  is  material  in  her  fora  good  teacher 
if  one  could  only  get  a  chance  to  work  it  up, 
and  if  her  heart  were  in  the  work.  She  fasci- 
nates the  children,  but  I  doubt  if  she  teaches 
them  any  thing  to  speak  of.  She  says  she  can't 
get  time  to  study  the  lesson,  and  that  she  has 
half  a  mind  to  give  up  the  class.  I  almost 
wish  she  were  entirely  of  that  mind.  And  yet 
I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  impression  that  she 
ought  to  stay.  The  truth  is,  she  is  more  inter- 
ested in  affairs  of  society  than  in  any  thing 
connected  with  the  church.  It  has  thus  far 
been  impossible  to  get  her  out  to  the  teachers' 
meeting.  She  says  she  has  so  many  engage- 
ments ;  and  when  I  suggest  that  she  should 
make  the  meeting  one  of  her  engagements,  she 
looks  at  me  with  an  astonished  air,  and  says, 
'  Impossible  ! '  If  only  some  influence  could 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  her  that  would  draw 
her  out  of  herself,  and  get  her  to  think  of  some- 


244  TRANSFORMED. 

body  besides  Cora  Butler,  she  might  yet  make 
a  good  teacher ;  but  at  present  there  is  no  heart 
in  her  work,  and  evidently  very  little  prayerful 
preparation,  or,  indeed,  preparation  of  any  sort 
Oh  for  consecrated  teachers ! " 


TRANSFORMED.  24$ 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

"What  is  thy  petition?  and  it  shall  be  granted  thee." 

MRS.  COLONEL  STRONG'S  suggestion  was  not 
forgotten.  The  young  people  of  Waltham  — 
some  of  them,  at  least  —  had  suddenly  awak- 
ened :  their  newly-found  energies  and  talents 
must  have  something  to  work  upon,  and  this 
scheme  of  a  mission  Sunday  school  promised 
well  in  the  line  of  hard  work. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Grace  Norton,  "  it  will 
not  be  a  thing  to  take  up  when  we  feel  like  it. 
It  isn't  like  a  Christmas-festival,  that  you  work 
hard  for  a  few  weeks  or  days,  and  then  it  is 
over,  and  you  have  time  to  rest  up ;  but  rain  of 
shine,  sick  or  well,  we  must  be  at  our  post  the 
year  round." 

Cora  Butler  thought  it  would  be  quite  too 
much  for  those  who  had  classes  in  the  home 


246  TRANSFORMED. 

Sunday  school,  to  go  out  there  and  teach 
another  class. 

"  But  you  know  we  will  teach  the  same  les- 
son in  both  places,  and  so  have  to  make  but 
one  preparation,"  said  Grace. 

"  Oh !  it  isn't  the  preparation,"  said  Miss 
Butler  ;  "  but  I  am  tired  to  death  with  teaching 
one  class." 

"Whom  can  we  get  to  act  as  superintend- 
ent ? "  asked  Evelyn  Baker ;  adding  the  sug- 
gestion, "  Fred  Gray  would  make  a  good  one." 

"You'll  not  get  Fred  Gray  into  it,"  said 
Grace.  "  Why,  he  does  not  come  to  our  own 
Sunday  school  more  than  half  the  time :  he 
says  he  has  to  work  so  hard  through  the  week 
in  the  office,  and  often  works  late  Saturday 
evenings,  that  he  needs  to  rest  Sundays.  You 
know  they  wanted  to  put  him  in  the  librarian's 
office  ;  but  he  would  not  accept,  because  he  did 
not  want  to  feel  obliged  to  go  to  church  every 
Sunday." 

"We  can  ask  him,"  said  Evelyn.  And  they 
did  ask  him  ;  but  it  turned  out  as  Grace  had 
said,  — he  was  quite  too  busy  a  man  to  under- 
take any  thing  more. 


TRANSFORMED.  247 

"But  you  drive  out  almost  every  sabbath 
afternoon,"  said  saucy  Lou  Strong.  "  I  should 
think  you  might  as  well  drive  out  to  Kitson 
district  as  anywhere,  and  help  the  girls  a  little 
in  their  mission  work." 

Mr.  Gray  did  not  condescend  to  notice  this 
speech. 

Lou  Strong  was  not  a  Sunday-school  teacher, 
being  much  younger  than  our  other  friends  of 
this  circle ;  but  she  was  greatly  interested  in 
this  new  undertaking,  and  only  wished  she  was 
old  enough  to  bear  some  of  the  responsibility, 
and  share  the  work.  Her  mother  was  some- 
what of  an  invalid,  and  Lou  was  a  sort  of 
assistant  in  her  Sunday-school  and  benevolent 
work :  she  often  attended  teachers'  meetings 
and  committee-meetings  as  her  mother's  proxy, 
and  now  and  then  taught  the  class  as  a  sub- 
stitute. Perhaps  no  girl  in  Waltham  was  hav- 
ing better  training  in  Sunday-school  and  church 
work  than  Lou  Strong. 

Preliminaries  were  soon  arranged.  The  con- 
sent of  the  proper  authorities  to  the  use  of  the 
schoolhouse  was  obtained  ;  arrangements  were 


248  TRANSFORMED. 

made  about  having  it  warmed  every  sabbath 
afternoon ;  the  notice  was  circulated,  that  there 
would  be  a  Sunday  school  opened  if  there 
should  be  a  sufficient  number  who  would  pledge 
themselves  to  attend. 

"  Now,  about  that  '  sufficient  number,'  "  said 
Mrs.  Strong.  "  Don't  get  your  ideas  too  high  : 
if  you  have  five  who  will  attend  your  school, 
let  that  encourage  you  to  go  on." 

The  Kitson  schoolhouse  was  a  substantial, 
well-built  structure,  not  very  large.  The  over- 
seer of  the  mill,  and  lumbermen,  made  quite  a 
settlement,  besides  several  thrifty  farmers  who 
lived  just  a  little  beyond  the  wood-region. 
This  wood-tract  was  rapidly  clearing  up,  and 
being  transformed  into  farms.  The  people  in 
that  vicinity  seldom  went  to  church :  of  many 
families  it  could  be  said  that  they  never  went. 
Through  the  summer  the  men  lounged  about, 
or  went  fishing  or  hunting,  while  the  boys 
often  indulged  in  a  game  of  base-ball.  In  win- 
ter they  lounged  about  still  more,  and  drank 
hard  cider  and  smoked  vile  tobacco  in  their 
own  or  their  neighbor's  kitchen,  or  sitting-room 


TRANSFORMED.  249 

if  there  was  one.  The  women  spent  a  little 
extra  time  over  the  Sunday  dinner,  and  per- 
haps, dressed  in  their  holiday  attire,  gossiped 
with  their  neighbors,  over  the  door-yard  fence 
in  summer,  and  around  the  fire  in  company 
with  their  husbands  in  the  winter. 

If  there  was  not  much  drunkenness  among 
them,  there  certainly  was  not  strict  temper- 
ance ;  and  there  was  much  profanity  and  vul- 
garity. On  the  whole,  it  was  not  a  very 
encouraging  field  which  these  young  enthusi- 
asts had  undertaken  to  work. 

The  trio  who  went  out  to  this  forlorn  place 
that  first  sabbath  were  Grace  Norton  and 
Evelyn  Baker,  with  Mrs.  Preston.  The  move- 
ment was  an  independent  one.  The  officers  of 
the  church  had  been  consulted,  but  they  did 
not  think  the  field  worth  cultivating  ;  at  least, 
so  it  appeared,  for  they  offered  no  help  and 
no  encouragement.  Mr.  Williams,  the  superin- 
tendent, was  interested,  but  he  had  been  ill 
for  several  weeks.  Mr.  Manning  encouraged 
and  helped  by  his  wise  suggestions,  and  said, 
"  Take  up  the  work,  and  command  me  in  any 
way  you  need." 


250  TRANSFORMED. 

Perhaps,  among  that  group  of  people  who 
welcomed  by  their  presence  those  who  had 
come  to  start  a  regular  Christian  service  in 
that  destitute  neighborhood,  there  were  none 
so  sunken  in  poverty  and  degradation  as  the 
Barnards  had  been  ;  yet  there  was  to  be  found, 
especially  among  the  children,  the  most  deplo- 
rable ignorance.  Among  the  number  of  the 
youngest  that  gathered  around  Grace  Norton, 
there  were  several  who  had  never  heard  of  God 
as  a  creative  Being.  They  had  heard  the  name 
as  it  fell  from  the  lips  of  wicked,  profane  men  ; 
but  of  God  as  their  Creator,  their  Father,  and 
of  Jesus  Christ  as  a  Saviour,  of  his  death  on 
the  cross,  they  had  not  heard.  The  Bible  had 
been  excluded  from  the  school  in  that  district, 
and  now  some  of  those  children  heard  it  read 
for  the  first  time  ! 

Evelyn  Baker  acted  as  superintendent.  The 
girl  had  passed  through  a  struggle  before  she 
made  up  her  mind  that  she  could  do  it. 

"  I  could  manage  every  thing  but  the 
prayer,"  she  said  in  talking  it  over  with  Mrs. 
Preston  and  Grace.  "  I  have  never  prayed 


TRANSFORMED.  2$  I 

before  any  one  since  I  left  school.  We  used 
to  have  a  girls'  prayer-meeting  there ;  and  Miss 
Mills  used  to  say,  'Girls,  you  may  some  time  be 
called  upon  to  pray  in  the  presence  of  others, 
and  you  ought  to  become  accustomed  to  the 
sound  of  your  own  voices,  for  it  is  your  voice 
that  frightens  you  more  than  the  people.' 
And  then  she  used  to  say,  '  You  are  always  in 
the  presence  of  God :  why  should  you  fear  or 
shrink  from  praying  before  other  people?' 
But  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  do  it." 

But  Mrs.  Preston  was  sure  she  could  not ; 
and  Grace,  who  was  younger  than  Evelyn,  said 
she  should  be  frightened  to  death,  and,  besides, 
Evelyn  was  the  oldest.  And  so,  after  a  wake- 
ful night,  and  earnest  prayer  for  strength, 
Evelyn  Baker  opened  the  Kitson  Sunday 
school  with  prayer.  And  it  was  a  prayer! 
Evelyn  Baker  had  given  herself  to  this  work, 
not  in  a  flash  of  enthusiasm  which  would  fade 
away  as  quickly  as  it  had  come,  but  in  the  still 
hours  of  that  wakeful  night  she  had  battled 
with  the  tempter,  and  come  off  conqueror. 
How  Satan  had  striven  for  the  mastery  over 


252  TRANSFORMED. 

that  heart !  How  he  had  argued,  setting  be- 
fore her  all  the  discouragements  of  the  field, 
the  apathy  of  the  church,  and  the  opposition 
they  would  be  likely  to  meet  with  from  various 
sources!  Then  he  had  whispered,  "It  is  not 
your  place  to  do  this  thing.  If  there  is  no 
man  who  will  take  hold  of  it,  it  is  clear  that  it 
ought  not  to  be  undertaken.  Anyway,  if  a 
woman  must  do  it,  it  should  be  an  older  per- 
son :  a  young  woman  should  not  make  herself 
conspicuous.  What  will  those  people  out  there 
think  of  a  girl  setting  herself  up  to  lead  in 
prayer,  and  conduct  a  service  ? "  and  so  on, 
repeating  over  and  over  all  the  old  arguments 
which  he  has  used  from  the  hour  our  first 
parents  were  beguiled  by  his  wiliness.  And  at 
last,  worn  and  weary,  Evelyn  threw  herself 
upon  her  knees,  and  cried,  "  Father  in  heaven, 
here  am  I ;  use  me  as  thou  wilt ! "  And  in 
that  moment  Satan  vanished.  And  in  all  the 
months  and  years  of  work  in  that  neighbor- 
hood, Evelyn's  was  the  leading  spirit. 

Mrs.  Preston  and  Grace  were  efficient  help- 
ers, and  the  work  grew  and  prospered.     The 


TRANSFORMED.  253 

attendance  that  first  sabbath  was  good.  Some 
came  out  of  curiosity,  and  some  were  glad  and 
eager  to  learn.  There  were  mothers  who  re- 
membered their  childhood's  teaching,  and  wel- 
comed this  opportunity  for  their  children.  As 
the  warm  weather  came  again,  Evelyn  and 
Grace  scoured  the  neighborhood  in  search  of 
recruits  for  the  Sunday  school,  and  here  Grace 
Norton's  peculiar  talent  for  managing  people 
came  into  play :  where  Evelyn  would  have 
failed,  she  won  promises,  and  brought  in  new 
scholars.  It  began  to  be  noticed  that  there 
were  fewer  fishing-excursions  and  less  ball- 
playing  than  usual. 

From  the  beginning  they  had  sighed  for 
some  one  to  help  in  the  singing,  realizing  what 
a  power  there  is  in  song.  And  in  their  visits 
they  found  out  that  there  was  a  young  man 
staying  in  the  neighborhood  who  was  a  fine 
singer ;  and  when  Grace  asked  him  to  come 
the  next  Sunday,  and  help  along  the  singing, 
he  replied  that  he  would  come  and  sing  if  that 
was  all  they  would  ask  of  him. 

"  I  would  have  come  in   before  ;   but  I  was 


254  TRANSFORMED. 

afraid  you  would  ask  me  to  teach  a  class,  or 
lead  in  prayer." 

"Well,"  said  Grace,  "what  if  we  did  ?" 

"  I  couldn't  do  it,  and  I  would  stay  away  if 
you  did.  Indeed,  I  won't  go  at  all  unless  you'll 
promise." 

"  You  are  a  Christian  ? "  asked  Grace. 

"  Well,  I  am  a  member  of  the  church,  but  I 
am  not  a  talking  Christian.  But  I  will  sing  if 
you  will  be  satisfied  with  that." 

"  Very  well,  we  will  try  to  be  satisfied ;  and 
I  assure  you,  that  whether  we  are  or  not,  we 
won't  ask  you  to  do  any  thing  else." 

And  so  Herman  Redinger  came,  and  brought 
another  young  man  with  him  ;  the  two  making 
a  wonderful  improvement  in  the  singing. 

"  Now  if  we  only  had  an  organ ! "  sighed 
Grace. 

Mrs.  Preston  and  Evelyn  laughed.  "Wish 
for  the  moon  while  you  are  about  it,"  said 
Evelyn. 

"  No  ;  for  I'd  have  no  hope  of  getting  it,  and 
it  would  be  useless  if  I  had  it.  But  I  have 
hope  of  getting  an  organ  for  our  school." 


TRANSFORMED.  255 

"I  am  afraid  your  hopes  have  a  poor  founda- 
tion," said  Mrs.  Preston.  "  I  do  not  know  of 
any  thing  that  seems  more  improbable." 

"Tell  us  how  you  expect  to  get  it,"  said 
Evelyn. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  will  be  done  ;  but  we 
need  it,  and  we  will  have  it !  The  first  thing 
is  to  pray  for  it ;  and  I  want  you  two  people  to 
think  it  over  until  you  realize  the  need,  and 
then  exercise  faith,  and  pray  that  the  way  may 
be  opened  for  us  to  get  it." 

"  O  Gracie,  what  a  queer  girlie  you  are ! " 
said  Mrs.  Preston. 

"  Well,  don't  you  see  that  music  is  our  best 
bait  ?  We  sing  very  well ;  but  an  instrument 
would  give  us  great  help,  and  make  our  school 
more  attractive.  And  we  must  attract  and 
hold  those  boys  ;  and  we  will  have  an  organ  !  " 

The  others  laughed,  but  the  thought  staid 
with  them  ;  and  somehow  both  Mrs.  Preston 
and  Evelyn  found  the  thought  framing  itself 
into  words  when  they  knelt  to  pray.  Grace 
was  sowing  the  seed  of  her  latest  enterprise  : 
would  it  bear  an  organ  for  the  Kitson  school  ? 


256  TRANSFORMED. 

One  other  thing  she  did.  She  took  from 
her  drawer  a  pocket-book  which  had  been  her 
mother's;  and  taking  —  not  from  her  "tenths," 
but  from  her  slender  amount  of  pocket-money 
—  twenty-five  cents,  she  placed  it  in  the  old 
pocket-book,  and  knelt  to  ask  God  to  bless  and 
increase  the  organ-fund.  And  very  soon  after 
that,  people  began  to  hear  remarks  about  the 
Kitson  organ-fund  ;  and  that  is  how  it  began. 

The  weeks  and  months  rolled  around,  and 
the  time  for  the  cummer  gathering  of  the 
Waltham  Sunday  school  came ;  and  Evelyn 
Baker  and  her  co-workers  believed  that  the 
hour  had  come  when  the  Kitson  school  should 
be  recognized  as  a  mission  or  branch  of  the 
home  school,  and  taken  under  the  care  of  the 
church.  It  was  a  bold  move,  and  they  were 
somewhat  doubtful  of  success ;  but  they  re- 
solved to  set  the  matter  before  the  leaders  of 
the  church.  Mr.  Williams  and  Mr.  Manning 
had  been  out  to  the  school  several  times,  and 
both  believed  that  a  good  work  was  going  on 
there.  All  the  workers  asked  was,  that  they 
should  be  acknowledged,  and  be  given  the  pres- 


TRANSFORMED.  257 

tige  of  the  name,  and  be  supplied  with  lesson- 
leaves.  And  so  it  came  about,  that  at  the 
annual  picnic  the  Kitson  school  joined  in  the 
procession,  and  carried  its  own  banner. 

There  was  a  great  deal  said  about  the  organ- 
fund  that  day.  Already  the  money  had  begun 
to  come  in.  There  were  other  twenty-five- 
cent  pieces  in  that  old  pocket-book ;  and  there 
were  half-dollars  and  dollars,  and  one  five-dollar 
gold  piece.  That  last  had  a  history. 

Reg  Barnard  had  been  at  work  for  Colonel 
Strong  for  a  few  days,  and  when  the  colonel 
came  to  pay  him  the  boy  asked  to  be  paid  in 
small  change ;  and,  watching  to  find  out  what 
he  meant,  the  colonel  noticed  that  Reg  put  as 
many  ten-cent  pieces  as  he  had  dollars  in  a 
separate  division  of  his  pocket-boolc 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh  !  that  is  my  tenths,"  replied  the  boy ; 
"and  I  am  going  to  stop  and  give  it  to  Miss 
Grace  Norton  as  I  go  home,  for  the  organ- 
fund." 

Tenths !  Organ-fund !  What  was  the  boy 
talking  about  ? 


258  TRANSFORMED. 

"  What  is  the  organ-fund  ? "  asked  Colonel 
Strong. 

Then  Reg  explained  about  the  organ,  and 
the  fund  which  Miss  Grace  had  started. 

"And  do  you  give  a  tenth  of  all  you  earn 
to  that  ?  "  asked  the  colonel. 

"  N6,  not  always  to  that ;  but  I  give  it  to 
something,  and  I  thought  I  would  put  it  into 
the  fund  this  time.  Miss  Grace  is  so  set  upon 
having  the  organ,  and  it  seems  as  though  it 
would  be  a  good  thing." 

"  You  think  it  is  needed  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  see,  there's  a  lot  of  fellows  over 
there  who  would  go  anywhere  and  do  almost 
any  thing  for  the  sake  of  hearing  good  music, 
and  they  say  Miss  Baker  plays  splendid  !  So, 
you  see,  if  we  could  get  an  organ,  maybe  we 
could  get  them  fellows  into  the  Sunday  school." 

"  I  see."  After  a  few  more  questions  for  the 
sake  of  drawing  Reg  out,  Colonel  Strong  said, 
taking  out  his  pocket-book,  — 

"  See  here,  Reg,  I  must  have  a  share  in  that 
organ  ;  give  this  to  your  treasurer,"  handing 
Reg  the  five-dollar  gold  piece. 


TRANSFORMED.  259 

Sometimes  when  Grace  was  happy  over  a 
small  contribution  to  her  fund,  the  others  would 
say,  "At  this  rate,  Grace,  we  shall  all  be  old 
and  gray-headed  before  we  get  the  organ." 
That  they  were  to  have  it  some  time,  they 
seemed  to  think  was  assured ;  but  none  of 
them  looked  for  it  at  once.  They  believed 
that  God  had  heard  their  prayer  for  this  aid  in 
their  work,  but  they  did  not  count  upon  an 
immediate  answer ;  even  Grace  herself  did  not 
look  for  it  quite  so  soon.  After  that  time  she 
used  to  say  that  she  had  learned  that  God  had 
ways  of  working  that  she  knew  not  of,  and  of 
which  it  was  not  needful  that  she  should  know. 

There  was  a  stranger  at  that  picnic.  At 
least,  he  was  a  stranger  to  the  young  people : 
many  of  the  older  ones  remembered  Dick  Slat. 
Oh,  yes,  they  remembered  him  well !  a  rol- 
licking, good-for-nothing  boy,  who  had  been 
wont  to  spend  days  kicking  his  heels  against 
the  sides  of  a  dry-goods  box  outside  the  prin- 
cipal store  of  Waltham  ;  whose  sole  recreation 
had  seemed  to  be  in  trading  jack-knives  or 
balls  or  pencils  with  some  other  good-for-noth- 


260  TRANSFORMED. 

ing.  Dick  was  always  ready  for  a  trade,  and 
knew  how  to  make  a  good  one  :  yet  it  could 
be  said  of  him  with  truth,  that  he  was  honest. 
He  never  cheated :  he  always  told  every  thing 
just  as  it  was.  But  if  he  was  ready  to  tell  the 
demerits  of  his  own  property,  he  could  see  the 
demerits  in  the  property  of  the  boy  with  whom 
he  was  driving  a  bargain.  If  he  never  cheated, 
he  never  allowed  himself  to  be  cheated.  His 
real  name  was  Richard  Slatham,  which  had 
been  shortened  to  Dick  Slat. 

One  afternoon  years  and  years  ago,  Dick 
announced  to  his  friends  of  the  dry-goods  box 
his  intention  of  going  away.  They  laughed, 
but  he  insisted. 

"This  is  no  place  for  trading,"  he  said  ;  "and 
I  am  going  off,  —  out  West,  I  guess.  I  am 
honest :  this  is  the  last  you  will  see  of  me  in 
this  town  until  I  get  rich.  Somebody  else  will 
have  to  kick  their  heels  against  this  old  box, 
and  somebody  else  will  have  to  manage  the 
jack-knife  business  for  this  little  town.  Some 
day  I'll  come  back,  and  you'll  wonder  if  Dick 
-Slat  —  I  mean,  the  great  Richard  Slatham  — 


TRANSFORMED.  26 1 

remembers  the  boy  he  last  traded  with  in  Wal- 
tham.  But  I'll  remember,  boys,  I'll  remember ! 
Good-by,  boys  !  "  And  he  went  off,  laughing. 

But,  sure  enough,  the  next  morning  Dick 
was  missing.  I  do  not  mean  that  he  ran  away 
fron  home  :  he  had  no  home  to  run  away  from. 
For  two  or  three  years  he  had  "hung  up,"  as 
he  expressed  it,  almost  anywhere,  doing  odd 
jobs,  staying  a  while  in  one  place,  and  a  little 
longer  perhaps  in  another ;  and  having,  as  he 
again  expressed  it,  "gone  the  rounds,"  he  con- 
cluded to  take  himself  off  to  some  place  where 
trading  was  better. 

And  now,  twenty-five  years  later,  he  had 
come  back.  Evidently  he  had  found  a  place 
where  trade  was  good,  for  he  had  come  back  a 
millionnaire.  He  had  sought  out  the  boy  with 
whom  he  last  traded,  and  many  others  of  his 
old  companions.  Some  he  found  in  the  old 
graveyard,  and  some  had  moved  away ;  but 
there  were  enough  left  to  give  him  a  warm 
welcome.  How  it  would  have  been  if  he  had 
come  back  poor,  I  cannot  say.  As  it  was, 
many  a  home  was  open  to  him,  and  many  were. 


262  TRANSFORMED. 

ready  to  claim  him  as  an  old  acquaintance. 
Well,  this  elegant  gentleman,  somewhat  under 
middle  age,  was  present  at  the  sabbath  service 
in  the  old  church  where  he  worshipped  in  his 
boyhood.  He  went  to  the  Sunday-school  pic- 
nic, and  seemed  to  enjoy  every  thing  thoroughly. 
Especially  he  enjoyed  the  boys.  Some  of  his 
old  cronies  said,  "  Why,  Dick,  you  are  as  much 
of  a  boy  as  ever  ! "  And  he  made  reply,  "  Yes, 
it  was  staying  a  boy  that  saved  me !  I  have 
never  been  able  to  get  away  from  my  mother's 
voice  as  she  used  to  say,  '  Sonny,  remember ! ' 
Old-fashioned  as  the  expression  is,  I  hear  it 
sometimes  ;  and  it  always  gives  me  a  start,  and 
I  feel  like  answering  to  the  call." 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Mr.  Slatham  heard 
something  about  the  Kitson  organ-fund.  He 
caught  at  that  name  "  Kitson." 

"What  is  this  I  hear  about  a  Kitson  organ  ?" 
he  asked  of  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  was 
walking.  The  gentleman  laughed  and  said,  — 

"  I  reckon  there  is  more  about  it  than  in  it. 
But  here's  Grace  :  she  will  tell  you,  and  get 
hold  of  your  pocket-book,  too,  if  possible."  And 


TRANSFORMED.  263 

Grace,  arrested  in  her  course,  was  introduced 
to  the  distinguished  stranger,  and  requested  to 
tell  him  all  about  the  Kitson  organ-fund ;  and 
Grace  told  her  story. 

"My  mother's  name  was  Kitson,"  said  Mr. 
Slatham  ;  "  and  I  suppose  the  Kitson  district 
was  named  after  her  father.  I  should  like  to 
have  a  hand  in  that  organ.  Will  you  tell  me 
how  much  you  need  ?  " 

Grace,  trembling,  told  him  how  much  they 
wanted  to  raise,  and  how  much  she  had  already 
gathered.  "We  have  not  done  much,"  she 
said  ;  "but  we  thought  if  we  made  a  beginning 
we  should  get  enough  after  a  while." 

"  Yes,  I  see.  Well,  here  is  a  draft  on  New 
York  :  it  is  rather  larger  than  you  will  need, 
but  I  happen  to  have  no  smaller  one  with  me. 
And  see  here,  you  need  a  library  for  that 
school :  you  can  use  the  rest  of  the  money  for 
that  purpose." 

Grace  was  overwhelmed,  and  tried  in  vain  to 
express  her  thanks.  When  she  did  find  her 
voice,  she  said  among  other  things  that  if  he 
was  willing,  the  library  should  be  called  the 
Slatham  Library.  But  he  replied, — 


264  TRANSFORMED. 

"  No,  let  it  be  the  Kitson  Library.  I  like  that 
name,  —  Kitson  organ  and  Kitson  Library.  I 
am  going  to  have  a  monument  put  over  my 
mother's  grave,  but  she  will  have  the  best  and 
most  enduring  monument  out  in  the  Kitson 
district.  Thank  you  for  giving  me  this  oppor- 
tunity of  honoring  her  name." 

And  the  rich  Mr.  Slatham  went  away  the 
next  day,  having  done  the  work  for  which  he 
was  sent  to  Waltham.  And  Grace  said,  — 

"  Only  think  !  Three  days  ago  we  had  never 
heard  of  Mr.  Slatham.  I  suppose  that  God 
knew  all  the  time  how  he  was  going  to  answer 
our  prayer." 


TRANSFORMED.  265 


%     CHAPTER   XIX. 

"They  helped  every  one  his  neighbor." 

THAT  second  summer  of  the  new  life  of  the 
Barnards  was  a  busy  one.  Reg,  now  nearly 
fourteen,  had  profited  by  the  hint  of  Mr.  Man- 
ning in  regard  to  raising  vegetables. 

One  day  during  the  previous  autumn,  he 
came  home  full  of  a  new  idea.  Mrs.  Strong 
had  offered  to  lend  him  a  newspaper,  any  one 
of  their  papers  which  he  might  choose;  and  "I 
thought  I  would  take  one  of  the  papers  that 
tells  about  gardening,  for  if  I  am  going  to  do 
any  thing  at  it,  I  want  to  learn  all  I  can."  And 
Mrs.  Strong  had  selected  an  armful  of  back 
numbers  which  she  said  would  help  him  as 
much  as  the  new  ones,  though  he  might  have 
the  paper  every  week.  And  through  the  long 
winter  evenings  Reg  studied  his  papers  until 


266  TRANSFORMED. 

he  felt  pretty  well  informed  as  to  the  theory 
of  gardening,  and  was  quite  impatient  for  the 
hour  to  come  when  he  might  begin  work. 

The  little  garden  was  enlarged  and  carefully 
prepared.  The  soil  was  a  rich  mould  ;  and  the 
seeds  which  Reg  had  saved  the  previous  sum- 
mer, and  a  few  which  he  had  bought,  and  others 
that  had  been  given  him  by  kind  neighbors 
who  were  watching  his  experiments  with  inter- 
est, had  every  inducement  to  grow.  And  they 
did  grow ;  and  Reg  was  a  happy  boy  when  he 
carried  his  basket  of  early  lettuce  and  radishes 
to  the  village,  where  he  found  a  ready  sale  for 
all  he  could  supply :  indeed,  he  could  have  sold 
much  more,  and  all  through  the  season  the  de- 
mand for  fresh  vegetables  exceeded  the  supply ; 
and  Reg  resolved  to  enlarge  his  operations 
another  year. 

The  little  strawberry-patch  yielded  abun- 
dantly, and  Reg  was  able  to  supply  two  or 
three  families  with  a  few  boxes  daily.  And  as 
one  and  another  admired  the  large,  luscious 
berries,  and  asked  for  them,  Reg  made  another 
resolve  :  If  his  father  were  willing,  he  would  set 


TRANSFORMED.  267 

out  strawberry-roots  on  that  other  sandy  knoll. 
And  of  course  his  father  was  willing  ;  and  he 
foresaw  that  the  time  was  coming  when  he 
would  no  longer  work  as  a  day-laborer  for  his 
neighbors,  but  if  Reg's  plans  were  all  carried 
out  he  would  have  work  enough  at  home. 

Sam  was  not  able  to  work  much  at  garden- 
ing, and  he  and  the  younger  children  went  to 
school.  Reg  would  go  in  the  winter,  but  his 
garden  kept  him  at  home  for  the  summer.  He 
spent  as  much  time  as  possible  reading ;  espe- 
cially he  read  every  thing  he  could  get  hold  of 
upon  gardening.  The  paper  which  Mrs.  Strong 
gave  him  after  they  were  through  with  it  was  a 
good  one,  and  Reg  grew  more  and  more  in  love 
with  his  work.  There  was  one  particular  issue 
that  he  had  carefully  put  away,  though  he  often 
brought  it  out  to  look  at  the  picture  of  his 
dream.  There  it  was,  —  that  pretty  house, 
with  its  pleasant,  well-kept  lawn  and  flower- 
garden  on  one  side,  and  a  vegetable-garden 
stretching  away  in  the  rear.  How  well  he 
knew  every  detail !  —  the  house  with  all  its 
conveniences,  its  good-sized  bedrooms,  its  little 


268  TRANSFORMED. 

parlor.  Would  they  ever  have  a  parlor  ?  There 
was  a  young  girl  standing  upon  the  piazza  in 
the  picture,  and  a  man  at  work  in  the  garden. 
Just  so  it  was  in  his  dream.  Would  Nan  or 
Essie  ever  have  a  piazza  to  stand  in,  and  would 
they  look  like  that  ?  He  thought  so,  and  it  all 
seemed  not  so  very  far  away.  Even  Nan's 
little  flower-border  was  helping  towards  the 
fulfilment  of  his  dream. 

One  morning  as  he  was  starting  for  the  vil- 
lage with  his  well-filled  basket,  Nan  ran  after 
him  with  a  pretty  bunch  of  flowers. 

"There!"  she  said,  "put  this  on  top.  You 
can  smell  the  sweet-peas  all  the  way,  and  it 
makes  the  basket  look  pretty  too." 

As  he  was  serving  Mrs.  Hunter  with  the  first 
tomatoes  of  the  season,  she  exclaimed,  — 

"  Sweet-peas  !  Why,  I  haven't  seen  any  since 
I  lived  in  the  old  home.  What  do  you  ask  for 
those  ? " 

Reg  was  taken  by  surprise,  but  not  thrown 
quite  off  his  guard.  His  very  first  impulse 
would  have  prompted  him  to  say  that  they  were 
not  for  sale,  but  that  he  would  give  them  to  her. 


TRANSFORMED.  269 

But  he  did  not  say  that :  they  were  Nan's  flow- 
ers, and  if  they  were  worth  any  thing  she  ought 
to  have  pay  for  them  ;  and  he  replied  after  a 
moment's  hesitation, — 

"  I  do  not  know  what  they  are  worth  :  if  you 
want  them,  you  may  pay  what  you  would  have 
to  pay  anywhere  else.  We  are  only  just  mak- 
ing a  beginning  with  flowers,  and  these  are  the 
first  I  have  brought  in." 

"  I  must  have  them :  will  ten  cents  be 
enough  ? " 

Reg  thought  so,  and  said,  "We  have  beauti- 
ful scarlet  beans  and  white  candytuft  that  go 
prettily  together,  and  I  will  bring  some  in  the 
next  time  I  come." 

"  Do.  And  see  here,  are  there  any  partridge- 
berry  vines  in  the  woods  out  there  ?  You  know 
what  I  mean, — long  trailing  vines  with  small 
round  leaves,  and  tiny  pinkish  flowers,  real 
fragrant,  and  bright  red  berries  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  know  !     There's  lots  of  'em." 

"Well,  bring  me  some,  with  a  plat  of  fresh 
moss,  if  you  can." 

And  now  Nan  was  a  business  woman  !     Mrs. 


2/0  TRANSFORMED. 

Hunter  was  well  pleased  with  her  scarlet-bean 
blossoms  mixed  with  the  contrasting  white  can- 
dytuft ;  and  the  plats  of  moss  with  the  trailing 
vines  and  scarlet  berries  found  other  admirers 
than  Mrs.  Hunter,  and,  what  was  more  to  the 
point,  other  purchasers.  The  income  from  this 
source  was  not  large,  for  Nan's  supply  of  flow- 
ers was  even  more  limited  than  the  purchasers ; 
but  it  was  a  hint  of  what  might  be  done  in  the 
future. 

That  next  winter  found  the  Barnards  much 
more  comfortable  in  every  respect  than  ever 
before.  Thomas  had  often  said,  "We  must 
have  a  new  house  :  just  as  soon  as  we  get  the 
land  paid  for,  we  will  build."  And  though  it 
might  be  long  before  the  new  house  would  shel- 
ter them,  they  would  get  out  Reg's  paper,  and 
study  the  plan  which  suited  them  all.  It  was 
all  down  there,  — the  kind  of  lumber  used,  and 
the  cost  of  the  whole  when  finished. 

"  It  is  just  the  thing,"  Mollie  would  say ; 
"  but,  land !  it  will  take  years  to  save  all  that 
money." 

"  Not  so  very  many  years,"  Reg  would  reply. 


TRANSFORMED.  2/1 

"  You  see,  we  shall  be  earning  more  and  more 
every  year,  and  we  shall  save  quite  a  nice  little 
sum  this  year." 

"  We  might  build  the  wing  part,  say  next 
year,"  said  Thomas.  "  People  often  do  that, 
and  it  would  make  us  more  comfortable  than 
the  old  house.  Then  we  could  put  up  the  up- 
right, and  put  on  the  piazza,  when  we  could  get. 
money  enough."  And  after  that,  they  began  to 
talk  about  the  house  they  were  to  build  "  next 
summer."  There  was  to  be  a  good-sized  liv- 
ing-room, with  a  bedroom  and  a  pantry,  on  the 
first  floor ;  and  above,  there  were  to  be  three 
bedrooms  ;  and  there  was  to  be  a  cellar  too. 

"  We  will  dig  the  cellar  this  fall,"  said 
Thomas.  "The  colonel  says  I  can  have  the 
stone  from  the  house  that  was  burned  last  win- 
ter :  he  is  not  going  to  build  up  there  again, 
and  wants  to  clear  away  the  rubbish.  It  will 
be  only  a  mile  to  draw  the  stone ;  and  the  col- 
onel said,  if  I  would  take  Dobson's  place  in  the 
mill  while  he  is  away,  he  will  let  me  have  his 
team  for  a  few  days." 

Thomas  did  not  know  that  he  had  to  thank 


272  TRANSFORMED. 

Mrs.  Strong  for  this  generous  offer.  That  lady 
had  been  out  to  call  upon  her  Sunday-school 
scholar;  and,  seeing  what  a  poor  hovel  they 
lived  in,  she  had  suggested  to  her  husband  that 
he  should  be  on  the  look-out  for  opportunities 
to  help  the  Barnards  to  a  new  house.  And 
what  Mrs.  Strong  suggested  to  her  husband 
was  likely  to  be  carried  out ;  though  he  only 
laughed,  and  said,  arching  his  eyebrows,  "  So 
you've  taken  up  the  Barnards  !  "  But  she  was 
satisfied  that  he  would  find  a  way  to  do  what 
she  desired,  and  the  offer  of  the  stone  for  the 
cellar  grew  out  of  this  talk. 

And  so  during  the  fall,  Thomas  and  Reg 
began  to  dig  the  cellar.  The  spot  selected  for 
the  new  house  was  near  the  centre  of  their  lot. 
In  this  selection  they  were  advised  by  Colonel 
Strong,  who  said,  "  The  ground  is  higher  there, 
and  you  want  to  put  your  house  in  the  most 
healthful  spot.  Besides,  if  you  follow  out  the 
plan  which  Reg  has  chosen,  there  may  come  a 
day  when  you  will  be  glad  of  a  wide  lawn  in 
front.  Just  for  the  present  you  will  not  need 
to  take  up  room  for  a  carriage-drive  if  you 


TRANSFORMED.  2/3 

manage  to  draw  your  wood  in  the  fall  when 
you  have  no  produce  on  the  ground  ;  so  you 
can  use  all  the  land  for  your  garden,  just  as 
well  as  if  the  house  stood  closer  to  the  street." 

Then,  again,  the  colonel  suggested,  "  I  would 
not  pull  down  the  old  shanty  just  yet.  You 
may  have  a  cow  before  you  feel  able  to  build  a 
barn,  and  you  could  use  the  place  for  a  stable ; 
or  you  may  need  it  to  store  vegetables  in." 

The  work  on  the  cellar  was  progressing  when 
the  colonel  rode  over  to  the  mill  one  August 
day ;  on  his  way  back,  he  stopped  to  talk  with 
Mr.  Barnard. 

"  Why  don't  you  build  your  wing  this  fall  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  Because  we  haven't  the  money  to  pay  for 
it,"  replied  Thomas.  "We  have  only  just  made 
out  to  pay  for  the  land  this  year,  and  a  little 
more." 

"  You  can  build  much  cheaper  now  than  in 
the  spring." 

"  I  suppose  so,  but  there's  no  use  in  talking : 
we  can't  do  it." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.     Why,  man,  you 


2/4  TRANSFORMED. 

can  never  get  through  the  winter  comfortably 
in  that  old  shell !  " 

"Then  we  must  get  through  it  uncomfort- 
ably." 

"  Well,"  continued  the  colonel,  "you  know  it 
is  rather  dull  times  just  now,  and  I  have  a 
couple  of  men  in  my  employ  who  are  idle  ;  and 
there's  a  lot  of  lumber  there  at  the  mill  just 
rotting  down,  and  it  is  pretty  good  too.  Now, 
I  have  to  pay  the  men,  whether  they  work  or 
not,  for  they  are  hired  by  the  year;  and  I  have 
to  feed  the  mill-teams,  even  if  there's  nothing  to 
do  :  so  you  see,  my  friend,  that  now  is  the  time 
for  that  house  to  go  up." 

Then  the  colonel  went  on  to  lay  before  Mr. 
Barnard  a  proposition  so  much  to  the  latter's 
advantage  that  he  could  not  fail  to  see  it. 

"  You  see,"  said  Colonel  Strong,  "  that  I  run 
all  the  risk ;  but  I  am  willing  to  take  it,  and 
shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  accept  my  prop- 
osition." 

Thomas  hesitated  ;  and  the  colonel  continued, 
"  The  fact  is,  Barnard,  my  wife  and  I  have  taken 
a  liking  to  that  boy  of  yours,  and  think  that  he 


TRANSFORMED.  275 

ought  to  have  a  chance  to  make  something  of 
himself.  I  hope,  for  your  family's  sake,  you 
will  think  favorably  of  this  plan." 

Mr.  Barnard's  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 
"  Reg  is  a  smart  boy,"  he  said  ;  "  and  if  he  likes 
the  plan  I  guess  we  will  go  into  it.  It  will 
be  getting  out  of  the  old  hut  sooner  than  we 
expected." 

"Yes,  but  none  too  soon." 

When,  two  months  later,  the  family  took 
possession  of  the  new  house,  their  delight  was 
beyond  any  expression. 

It  was  curious,  how  many  ways  of  helping 
the  Barnards  Mrs.  Colonel  Strong  found  with- 
out trampling  upon  their  growing  independence. 
One  day  she  sent  for  Reg.  Their  man  Robert 
was  sick,  and  she  wanted  to  go  to  the  city  ten 
miles  away.  She  could  drive  her  own  pony, 
but  she  needed  some  one  to  hold  the  horse 
while  she  shopped  or  made  calls. 

"  I  know  you  are  very  busy,"  the  message 
ran ;  "  but  I  will  pay  you  well  if  you  can  possibly 
be  spared." 

"  Be  sure  you  do  not  set  any  price  for  your 


276  TRANSFORMED. 

day's  work,"  said  Thomas  as  his  boy  was  start- 
ing :  "  I'd  let  you  go  anyway,  to  accommodate 
the  colonel's  wife." 

That  was  a  wonderful  day  to  Reg.  He  had 
never  been  in  the  city,  and  every  thing  was 
strange  to  him  ;  but  he  was  able  to  do  all  that 
was  required,  and  Mrs.  Strong  was  more  pleased 
than  ever.  As  they  were  going  home,  she 
asked,  — 

"When  do  you  expect  to  get  into  the  new 
house  ? " 

"  The  men  say  we  can  go  in  the  first  of  the 
month." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  glad." 

"  Yes  :  the  old  house  was  pretty  cold  last 
winter,  and  pretty  crowded  too." 

"  What  sort  of  a  stove  have  you  ? " 

"  Not  a  very  good  one." 

"  That's  a  pity.  You  ought  to  have  a  good 
stove,  going  into  a  new  house.  The  house  will 
be  somewhat  damp,  and  good  fires  will  remedy 
that.  And  then,  if  your  stove  smokes,  it  will 
spoil  the  looks  of  your  walls  very  soon." 

Reg  assented  to  these  remarks,  but  he  did 


TRANSFORMED.  277 

not  know  that  any  thing  could  be  done.  But 
his  companion  did.  "  I'll  tell  you,"  she  said. 
"  We  are  going  to  put  a  new  range  into  our 
kitchen  :  that  was  a  part  of  my  business  in  the 
city  to-day,  to  look  at  one  my  husband  likes. 
We  intended  to  sell  our  stove  for  old  iron, 
though  it  is  almost  as  good  as  new.  You  see, 
we  want  to  put  in  a  range  to  burn  coal,  and  this 
is  a  wood-stove.  Now,  if  my  husband  is  will- 
ing, you  shall  have  the  stove  for  the  same  it 
would  bring  for  old  iron  ;  and  it  will  last  your 
people  for  years.  I  told  the  colonel  that  it 
seemed  as  if  he  might  sell  it  at  second-hand  ; 
but  he  said  there,  was  never  any  chance  for  that, 
and  he  couldn't  go  about  peddling  a  stove,  and 
that  the  best  way  was  to  take  it  to  the  place 
where  they  buy  old  iron,  and  tumble  it  in.  But 
I  think  you  ought  to  have  it.  Now,  you  have 
done  exactly  the  same  work  that  Robert  would 
have  done  to-day,  and  if  you  take  care  of  my 
horse  for  me  when  we  get  home  I  shall  pay  you 
the  same  that  he  receives.  What  do  you  think 
of  a  man's  wages  ?  "  she  said,  laughing. 

"  I  think  you  ought  not  to  pay  me  any  thing," 


278  TRANSFORMED. 

said  Reg.  "  I  have  had  such  a  good  time,  and, 
besides,  you  bought  my  dinner." 

"And  wouldn't  I  have  to  give  Robert  his 
dinner?"  asked  Mrs.  Strong,  laughing.  "And, 
as  for  your  having  a  good  time,  that  can't  be 
helped.  If  you  could  get  a  good  time  out  of  a 
job  that  Robert  would  have  growled  over,  I  am 
glad  of  it." 

Of  course  the  colonel  was  willing  to  dispose 
of  the  old  stove,  but  he  suggested  a  trade.  He 
would  take  Mr.  Barnard's  stove  in  place  of  his. 
Probably  that  would  bring  as  much  for  old  iron 
as  the  other,  and  it  would  be  an  easier  way  of 
arranging  it :  it  would  save  weighing,  and  it 
could  be  brought  over  and  set  up  in  the  new 
house  as  soon  as  they  had  their  range  put  in  ; 
and  with  a  little  fire  the  house  would  be  getting 
dry  before  they  moved  in.  And  so  it  was  ar- 
ranged ;  and,  on  the  whole,  Mrs.  Strong  felt  quite 
satisfied  with  the  result  of  her  manoeuvring. 
The  stove  proved  to  be  a  good  heater  ;  and  with 
the  pipe  running  up  through  the  girls'  room, 
and  the  door  open  from  the  boys'  room,  the 
whole  house  was  made  comfortable.  Reg  was 


TRANSFORMED.  2/9 

in  a  fair  way  to  see  the  realization  of  his  ambi- 
tion, —  to  live  like  other  folks  !  True,  the  fur- 
niture was  scanty  and  plain  ;  but  it  was  neat, 
and  various  home-made  contrivances  added  to 
the  comfort  of  the  family. 

The  day  they  moved  into  the  new  house  hap- 
pened to  be  little  Nan's  birthday ;  and  Grace 
Norton  and  Lou  Strong,  having  put  their  heads 
together,  determined  to  give  the  family  an  old- 
fashioned  "  house-warming." 

"  True,  the  house  is  small,  but  there  is  not 
much  room  taken  up  with  furniture,"  said 
Grace.  "  It  seems  incredible  that  a  family  can 
get  along  with  so  little." 

Reg  was  taken  into  confidence,  and  fully  ap- 
proved of  the  proceeding. 

"Of  course  we  will  take  our  suppers,"  ex- 
plained Lou:  "people  always  do  at  surprise- 
parties.  And  at  birthday-parties  they  always 
give  presents.  What  shall  I  give  Nan  ? " 

Reg  didn't  know  ;  and  Lou  said  by  way  of 
suggestion,  — 

"Suppose  I  give  her  something  pretty  for 
her  own  room  ?  She  told  me  she  and  Essie 


280  TRANSFORMED. 

were  to  have  one  of  the  pretty  bedrooms  up- 
stairs. But  I  don't  know  what  it  should  be. 
Suppose  you  come  up  to  my  room,  and  look 
around,  and  see  what  you  think  she  would  like." 

Little  by  little  Reg  was  getting  his  education. 
He  had  never  in  all  his  fourteen  years  seen  a 
well-furnished  and  well-kept  sleeping-room  ;  and 
here  he  was  in  the  room  of  the  only  and  petted 
daughter  of  a  rich  man.  Swiftly  his  eyes  took 
it  all  in,  from  the  soft  mossy-looking  carpet  on 
the  floor,  and  the  snowy  bed  with  its  great  puffy 
pillows,  to  the  dainty  ornaments  on  the  mantel 
and  dressing-case;  and  he  said  to  himself, — 

"Some  day  Nan  shall  have  a  room  like  this." 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  give  her  ? "  asked  Lou, 
after  giving  the  boy  time  to  look  around. 

"I  think/'  he  replied  slowly,  "that  Nan 
would  like  a  looking-glass." 

"  Well,  now,  that  is  just  the  thing  !  I  am  so 
glad  I  brought  you  up  here !  I  wonder  I  didn't 
think  of  that  before/' 

"I  guess,"  and  Reg  hesitated  and  stammered, 
"  I  ought  not  to  have  said  that.  Won't  it  cost 
a  great  deal  ? " 


TRANSFORMED.  281 

"Oh,  no!  I  may  not  give  her  one  just  like 
that.  You  see,  Reg,  that  things  ought  to  cor- 
respond ;  and  a  smaller  one  would  do  nicely  for 
Nan's  little  room." 

"  I  see,"  said  Reg  simply ;  and  he  thought 
over  in  his  mind  the  expression  she  had  used, — 
"'Things  ought  to  correspond.'  That  means, 
they  ought  to  fit.  Just  as  fast  as  I  can,  I  mean 
to  have  things  fit !  " 

It  didn't  take  long  to  move,  when  they  had 
not  much  to  move.  It  was  all  over  by  after- 
noon ;  and  Reg  suggested  that  they  should  all 
dress  up,  and  have  a  jubilee,  in  honor  of  the 
event  and  Nan's  birthday.  "  Sam  and  I  have 
got  little  birthday-presents  for  Nan.  Miss  Lou 
says  they  always  have  birthday-gifts  at  their 
house ;  and  Sam  and  I  thought  it  would  be  nice 
to  begin  doing  as  other  folks  do,  now  we  have 
got  a  decent  place  to  live  in." 

It  was  well  for  Reg  Barnard,  that  the  "other 
folks  "  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  were  of 
the  genuine  stamp,  for  the  most  part ;  for  as 
yet  this  was  his  highest  idea  of  life,  "to  live 
like  other  folks." 


282  TRANSFORMED. 

The  house-warming  was  a  success.  The  gifts 
for  which  Nan's  birthday  was  an  excuse  had 
been  wisely  chosen  ;  and  they  were  such  as 
might  have  been  given  to  any  girl,  and  not  cal- 
culated to  make  her  or  the  family  feel  that  they 
were  objects  of  charity,  —  a  set  of  hanging- 
shelves,  a  few  books,  a  pretty  rug,  a  low  rocker  ; 
none  of  them  costly,  but  such  as  to  delight  the 
heart  of  a  child  to  whom  such  things  were  new. 
Mrs.  Colonel  Strong  was  not  likely  to  do  things 
as  any  one  else  would.  She  sent  the  little  girl 
a  large  portrait  of  Washington,  with  this  mes- 
sage :  "  Mamma  said  that  this  was  too  large  to 
hang  in  your  room,  and  she  would  like  to  have 
you  hang  it  in  the  living-room  where  you  could 
all  enjoy  it ;  and  she  wants  you  and  the  boys  to 
study  the  face,  and  tell  her  what  you  find  in  it, 
—  that  is,  what  kind  of  a  man  you  think  he 
was,  from  the  face."  And  Mrs.  Strong  did  not 
forget.  For  months,  whenever  she  met  the 
children,  she  would  say,  "  Well,  have  you  found 
any  thing  new  in  that  face?" 


TRANSFORMED.  283 


CHAPTER    XX. 

"  In   due   season." 

THE  months  rolled  away,  and  it  was  a  whole 
year  since  Mrs.  Preston  and  Grace  Norton  went 
out  to  Kitson  for  the  first  time.  And  what  had 
been  accomplished  ?  Quite  a  large  school  had 
been  gathered,  and  thoroughly  organized  and 
equipped ;  and  it  had  been  taken  under  the  fos- 
tering care  of  the  Waltham  church. 

Every  sabbath  afternoon  Colonel  Strong's 
grays  were  reined  up  before  the  little  school- 
house. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  mind  going  out  to  Kit- 
son  every  sabbath,"  said  the  colonel  to  his  man 
Robert. 

"Mind  it?  Yes,  I  mind  it !  I  mind  it  is  a 
good  thing  to  do.  I  ain't  much  on  religion  my- 
self, but  I  want  them  youngsters  of  my  brother's 
to  have  a  chance  as  good  as  the  rest." 


284  TRANSFORMED. 

"Do  you  have  a  class  yourself?"  asked  his 
employer. 

"  A  class !  Oh,  no  !  I  sits  in  Mrs.  Preston's 
class,  and  listens  to  her.  I  tell  you,  that  woman 
has  got  something  that  the  rest  of  us  hain't 
got." 

"  She  certainly  has  shown  a  good  deal  of 
pluck  in  going  out  there,  and  persevering  the 
way  she  has.  And  yet  I  never  thought  she 
was  a  very  earnest  Christian,  until  lately." 
And  the  colonel  mused  upon  the  fact  that  a 
change  had  come  over  several  people  of  his 
acquaintance.  Walking  down  to  his  office,  he 
met  Mr.  Williams  at  the  corner,  and  they  went 
down  street  together. 

"  I  was  thinking,  as  I  met  you,"  said  the  col- 
onel, "that  things  are  different  in  our  church 
from  what  they  were  a  year  or  two  ago.  I  can 
think  of  several  people  who  have  suddenly,  as 
it  seems  to  me,  developed  into  working  Chris- 
tians. You  know  I  am  not  one  of  that  sort 
myself,  but  I  can  see  the  spirit  in  others." 

Mr.  Williams  smiled.  He  knew  something 
of  Colonel  Strong's  work.  He  knew  that 


TRANSFORMED,  285 

though  he  might  almost  be  called  a  "dumb  dis- 
ciple," his  brain  and  his  money  were  constantly 
at  work  for  his  Master.  Mrs.  Strong  was  full 
of  schemes  for  which  the  husband  must  con- 
trive ways  and  furnish  means  for  carrying  into 
execution. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  superintendent,  "there  is 
a  change  in  some  of  our  people.  I  have  been 
surprised  at  the  wonderful  transformation  in 
one  of  our  Sunday-school  teachers." 

"  You  mean  Mrs.  Preston  ? " 

"No,  though  she  has  changed  within  a  few 
years  ;  but  I  mean  Cora  Butler.  The  develop- 
ment there  is  simply  wonderful :  she  astonishes 
me.  And  it  came  suddenly  too.  I  had  been 
trying  for  years  to  get  her  to  attend  the  teach- 
ers' meeting.  She  always  insisted  that  she  had 
not  time ;  but  without  warning  she  appeared 
one  Monday  evening  about  four  months  ago, 
and  ever  since  she  has  been  thoroughly  awake 
and  full  of  enthusiasm.  She  seems  to  have  en- 
listed heart  and  soul  in  the  work,  and  she  is 
perfectly  astonished  to  find  that  we  are  not  all 
as  enthusiastic  as  herself.  She  puts  new  life 


286  TRANSFORMED. 

and  energy  into  our  meeting.  She  is  full  of 
plans  for  her  class,  and  withal  she  seems  thor- 
oughly imbued  with  the  idea  of  seeking  first 
the  conversion  of  her  pupils." 

"All  this  seems  strange  to  me,  for  I  always 
thought  Cora  Butler  one  of  the  gayest  and 
shallowest  of  our  young  ladies,"  said  the  colo- 
nel, who  had  no  patience  with  the  "  girl  of  the 
period." 

"  Well,  I  confess  I  never  thought  her  capable 
of  this ;  though  I  have  been  holding  on,  hoping 
for  an  improvement  in  her  teaching." 

"  Will  it  last,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Of  course  one  can't  tell,  but  it  looks  like 
the  real  thing  :  she  has  held  on  for  four  months, 
and  seems  to  be  growing  in  zeal." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  They  tell  me 
that  the  school  out  at  Kitson  is  quite  a  suc- 
cess." 

"  Yes.  As  you  say,  things  are  different  with 
us,"  replied  Mr.  Williams.  "  Have  you  ever 
been  out  there  ?  to  the  school,  I  mean." 

"  No  :  the  ladies  have  invited  me  out,  but  I 
have  not  been." 


TRANSFORMED.  287 

"You  ought  to  go,  inasmuch  as  the  school 
owes  its  existence  to  you." 

"  To  me  !  " 

"  Certainly.  Who  is  responsible  if  you  are 
not  ? " 

The  colonel  whistled  softly.  "  I  did  not  sup- 
pose that  responsibility  was  going  to  be  laid  at 
my  door,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"You  know,  that,  whoever  originated  the 
idea,  it  could  never  have  been  carried  out  but 
for  your  generous  offer  of  the  horses  and  car- 
riage." 

"  Oh  !  it  would  have  been  managed  somehow." 

"  I  am  not  sure  of  that.  We  have  no  other 
person  who  could  do  what  you  have  done." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  the  credit  of  it  in  any 
degree  ;  because,  you  know,  a  man  ought  to 
show  a  little  personal  interest  in  a  matter  for 
which  he  is  held  responsible." 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Williams  with  a 
smile  ;  and  as  they  had  now  reached  Mr.  Wil- 
liams's  office,  the  two  gentlemen  parted  with  a 
"good-morning." 

"  Robert,"  said  Colonel  Strong  the  next  sab- 


288  TRANSFORMED. 

bath  afternoon,  "  if  you  have  room  for  me  in 
the  carriage,  I  will  ride  out  to  Kitson  district 
with  you  to-day." 

"  Plenty  of  room,  sir,"  said  the  pleased 
Robert. 

After  the  opening  of  the  school,  Mrs.  Preston 
came  towards  Colonel  Strong.  He  saw  a  re- 
quest on  her  face,  and  was  not  altogether  sur- 
prised to  hear  her  say,  — 

"  There  are  half  a  dozen  young  men  over 
there,  who  have  fallen  into  the  way  of  dropping 
in,  and  would  like  to  be  formed  into  a  class 
if  there  were  anybody  to  teach  them.  Now, 
colonel,  we  should  like  to  have  you  get  them 
organized  this  afternoon." 

To  his  utter  amazement,  Colonel  Strong 
found  himself  seated  in  the  midst  of  a  group 
of  young  men,  some  of  whom  he  recognized  as 
his  own  employees  ;  and  there  came  over  him, 
for  the  first  time,  a  suspicion  that  he  had  not 
done  all  his  duty  towards  his  employees  in  sim- 
ply helping  on  this  enterprise  by  furnishing  a 
conveyance  for  the  self-sacrificing  women  who 
were  doing  the  work.  And  this  feeling  that  he 


TRANSFORMED.  289 

had  a  personal  duty  towards  these  young  men 
grew  upon  him.  The  young  men  were  inter- 
ested, and  he  was  interested  ;  and  the  next 
sabbath  he  astonished  himself  and  astonished 
Robert,  by  going  out  to  Kitson  again.  The 
third  sabbath,  no  one  was  astonished. 

As  the  weeks  went  by,  there  seemed  to  be 
a  growing  interest  among  the  people  who  met 
there  in  the  schoolhouse  from  sabbath  to  sab- 
bath. The  numbers  increased ;  and  there  was 
a  tenderness  of  feeling,  a  spirit  of  inquiry  into 
the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion,  a  desire 
to  make  practical  applications  of  the  truth ; 
and  one  sabbath  Evelyn  Baker,  who  continued 
to  act  as  superintendent,  said,  — 

"  I  will  ask  the  teachers  to  shorten  the  lesson 
a  little  to-day.  And  afterwards  we  will  spend  a 
little  time  in  prayer  and  conversation.  I  am  im- 
pressed with  the  thought  that  there  are  those 
here  who  would  like  to  give  expression  to  their 
thoughts  and  determinations  ;  and  we  will  give 
them  an  opportunity  to  do  so." 

Evelyn  had  asked  Colonel  Strong  to  lead  the 
meeting  which  she  proposed  to  hold ;  and  he 


290  TRANSFORMED. 

had  replied  to  the  effect  that  the  superintend- 
ent was  the  proper  person  to  conduct  it,  but 
that  she  should  have  his  support.  "  You  may 
call  upon  me  for  any  thing  you  desire,  that  I 
can  do,"  he  said. 

I  should  like  to  tell  you  about  that  meeting, 
as  it  was  described  to  me  ;  but  I  fear  I  cannot. 
Evelyn,  in  a  few  tender,  touching  words,  told  of 
the  preciousness  of  the  Saviour's  love,  of  the 
joy  she  had  found  in  serving  Christ,  and  ear- 
nestly invited,  in  her  Master's  name,  those  who 
had  never  sought  him  to  come  and  find  out  for 
themselves  how  true  it  all  was.  Then  Grace 
had  a  word  to  say,  and  Colonel  Strong  offered 
prayer.  He  never  prayed  in  the  Waltham 
prayer-meeting ;  but  here,  where  he  had  been 
at  work  for  individual  souls,  he  could  pray  for 
those  souls.  Then  the  young  man  Herman 
Redinger,  who  came  only  upon  condition  that 
he  should  not  be  asked  to  help  except  in  sing- 
ing, found  out  that  he  could  speak  his  Master's 
praises  as  well  as  sing  them.  He  told  how  his 
heart  had  been  touched  by  what  he  had  seen 
and  heard  there  in  the  months  past,  and  how 


TRANSFORMED.  291 

for  a  long  time  he  had  been  desirous  of  an 
opportunity  of  speaking  of  the  new  experience 
of  Christ's  love  which  had  come  to  him.  "  I  am 
ready  now  for  service  in  any  place  where  I 
am  needed.  I  can  sing,  but  I  can  talk  too;  and 
I  want  to  say,  if  there  is  one  here  who  is  try- 
ing to  make  a  compromise,  and  wants  to  dictate 
as  to  the  sort  of  service  he  will  render,  —  don't 
do  it.  Be  ready  for  any  service." 

Then  Colonel  Strong  arose.  "The  remarks 
of  our  young  friend  have  moved  me  strangely. 
For  years  I  have  held  back  from  any  personal 
work  for  Christ :  I  have  been  willing  to  serve 
him  with  the  means  which  God  has  given  me, 
and  have  excused  myself  from  further  duty. 
The  little  work  I  have  been  doing  here  of  late 
is  the  first  personal  service  I  have  ever  given 
the  Master.  The  prayer  I  prayed  to-day  is  the 
first  public  prayer  I  have  offered  in  years.  But, 
like  my  young  brother,  I  am  constrained  to  say, 
Away  with  compromises  !  I  believe  that  the 
Lord  wants  my  personal  work,  as  well  as  the 
duties  of  my  stewardship ;  and  I  think  I  am 
ready  to  give  it." 


292  TRANSFORMED. 

Presently  Evelyn  said,  — 

"  And  now  I  want  to  ask  if  there  are  not 
some  here  who  have  never  yet  given  any  sign 
of  their  interest  in  these  matters,  who  would 
like  to  express  their  concern,  or  maybe  their 
determination,  this  afternoon.  Some  of  you 
have  said  to  me  privately  that  you  would  like 
to  secure  a  personal  interest  in  the  blood  of 
Christ :  will  you  confess  him  to-day  ? " 

A  moment's  pause ;  then  a  young  lady,  the 
teacher  in  the  Kitson  district,  arose  and  said, — 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  serve  Christ  secretly 
for  a  long  time.  I  want  this  afternoon  to  con- 
fess him  as  my  Saviour." 

"  How  many  of  us  want  to  begin  to-day  to 
serve  the  Lord  ?  Who  will  in  this  hour  enter 
upon  a  life  of  Christian  service  ? "  It  was  Eve- 
lyn who  gave  this  word  of  invitation.  There 
was  a  momentary  hush ;  and  then,  as  if  by  one 
impulse,  five  women  —  all  of  them  mothers  — 
arose  and  stood  for  an  instant. 

"  Let  us  pray,"  said  Herman  Redinger. 

The  fields  were  white  for  the  harvest,  and 
they  had  not  known  it !  It  was  a  surprise  to 


TRANSFORMED.  293 

the  workers  in  the  Kitson  district,  and  to  the 
Waltham  church,  —  many  of  whom  had  be- 
come interested  in  the  enterprise,  and  were 
helping  it  on  by  their  means  and  their  influ- 
ence, —  when  the  fruitage  began  to  appear. 
Evelyn  Baker  seemed  to  have  been  watching 
and  waiting  ;  and  she  alone  was  not  surprised 
when  one  after  another,  men  and  women,  boys 
and  girls,  came  into  the  kingdom.  Once  Mrs. 
Preston  expressed  her  astonishment ;  and  Evelyn 
replied,  — 

"But  it  is  just  what  we  have  been  asking! 
Why  should  it  have  come  upon  us  unex- 
pectedly ? " 

"  Well,  you  remember,  when  Herod  had  im- 
prisoned Peter,  —  how  when  he  was  delivered 
from  prison  he  came  to  the  house  of  Mary, 
where  Christians  were  gathered  praying  —  as 
we  may  suppose  —  for  him,  and  they  refused 
to  believe  that  it  was  Peter  who  stood  before 
them.  I  think  we  are  often  astonished  when 
our  prayers  are  answered." 

Evelyn  made  no  reply  to  this.  I  do  not 
think  that  she  was  ever,  in  those  days,  sur- 


294  TRANSFORMED. 

prised  at  an  answered  prayer.  Evelyn  Baker 
had  come  to  expect  answers  to  prayer. 

The  interest  grew  and  widened.  Mr.  Man- 
ning and  others  came  out  to  help  by  their  coun- 
sel and  their  prayers.  The  influence  of  the  gath- 
erings in  the  Kitson  neighborhood  reached  out, 
and  took  in  other  neighborhoods ;  some  even 
came  out  from  the  village  to  become  interested, 
and  to  be  led  to  seek  for  better  things  than 
they  had  known  hitherto.  Colonel  Strong's 
man  Robert,  who  had  all  along  been  anxious 
for  his  brother's  family,  became  anxious  for 
himself,  and  found  no  rest  from  his  anxiety 
until  he  found  it  in  Christ.  Whole  families  in 
some  instances  were  brought  into  the  king- 
dom ;  and  here  and  there  a  wild,  reckless  son, 
or  a  dissipated  father,  was  saved. 

But  some  for  whom  much  effort  was  made, 
and  for  whom  many  prayers  were  offered,  held 
strangely  aloof.  When  Tom  Dexter  said  in  a 
firm  and  determined  voice,  "  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  serve  the  Lord,"  all  looked  to  see 
his  friend  Reg  Barnard  follow  his  example. 
But  Reg  held  himself  steadily  apart.  He  had 


TRANSFORMED.  295 

always  attended  the  Sunday-school  there,  and 
was  almost  always  at  the  extra  services,  atten- 
tive and  serious  in  demeanor,  but  looking  qui- 
etly on  as  one  who  had  no  personal  interest  in 
the  matter.  To  all  appeals  he  listened  respect- 
fully, but  turned  away  with  an  indifferent  air, 
which  was  not  assumed  :  he  was  indifferent. 
If  he  could  have  expressed  what  he  felt  and 
thought,  he  would  have  said  in  effect,  "I  am 
not  interested  in  these  things.  It  is  all  right 
for  those  who  are,  but  I  see  no  special  neces- 
sity for  making  a  profession  of  religion.  I  am 
trying  to  do  the  best  I  can,  and  I  am  satisfied 
with  the  progress  I  am  making  in  my  effort  to 
rise  in  the  world.  Religion  is  a  good  thing,  no 
doubt ;  but  there  are  nice,  respectable  people 
who  live  without  it,  and  I  have  no  .time  to 
attend  to  it  now."  John  and  Nan  had  given 
their  young  hearts  to  the  Saviour,  and  even 
littfe  Hugh  and  Stella  were  learning  the  way 
of  life  :  only  Reg  would  not  give  his  attention 
to  religion  as  a  personal  matter. 

It   was   a  glad    though   solemn    occasion  for 
Waltham    church,    when   a   score   or   more   of 


296  TRANSFORMED. 

those  who  had  scarcely  ever  been  church  at- 
tendants came  and  asked  to  be  enrolled  among 
the  people  of  God  in  that  place.  One  after 
another  they  had  sought  counsel  in  regard  to 
this  duty  and  privilege,  saying,  "  If  this  is  the 
next  step,  we  are  ready  for  it." 

Among  those  who  came  thus  to  unite  with 
the  people  of  God,  was  Sam  Barnard ;  and  there 
was  a  sentence  or  two  in  a  prayer  which  was 
offered  at  that  time,  which  Sam  never  forgot, 
and  which  had  much  to  do,  it  may  be,  with  the 
shaping  of  his  future.  Mr.  Manning  prayed, 
"  It  may  be,  dear  Father,  that  thou  hast  a  spe- 
cial work  for  some  among  this  group  of  boys 
who  now  come  to  consecrate  their  lives  unto 
thee.  It  may  be  that  thou  wilt  call  some  one 
of  them  to  preach  the  gospel.  If  this  shall  be 
thy  plan  concerning  any,  wilt  thou  prepare  the 
heart  to  receive  the  call,  and  to  respond  like 
thy  servant  of  old,  '  Speak,  Lord,  for  thy  ser- 
vant heareth.' ' 

In  that  hour  there  came  to  Sam  Barnard  the 
thought  that  perhaps  he  might  be  thus  called; 
and  in  his  heart  he  said,  '  Here  am  I.' 


TRANSFORMED.  297 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

"Is  there  yet  any  portion  or  inheritance  for  us  in  our  Father's 
house?" 

AT  the  time  when  Cora  Butler  so  astonished 
Mr.  Williams  by  attending  the  teachers'  meet- 
ing, she  had  just  returned  from  her  summer 
jaunting.  She  was  accustomed  to  take  a  sum- 
mer trip  and  a  winter  trip,  with  an  occasional 
outing  between  times ;  and  adding  to  the  sab- 
baths she  was  out  of  town  those  when  she 
"  really  did  not  feel  able  to  get  out  to  church," 
it  will  be  concluded  that  she  had  not  been  a 
very  punctual  teacher.  It  was  observed  that 
she  was  absent  more  Sundays  than  she  was 
present,  taking  the  whole  year  into  account  ; 
and  why  she  did  not  stay  away  altogether,  was 
a  mystery  to  most  people.  On  that  particular 
September  sabbath,  certainly,  as  she  had  been 


298  TRANSFORMED. 

accustomed  to  view  things  she  had  every  reason 
for  staying  at  home.  She  had  returned  from  a 
wearisome  journey  only  the  evening  before  ;  her 
mother  evidently  wanted  her  to  stay  at  home 
for  a  nice  long  talk  about  things  that  had  oc- 
curred in  her  absence ;  she  had  a  miserable 
headache ;  her  trunks  were  not  yet  unpacked, 
and  ordinarily  she  would  have  been  unable  to 
suit  herself  as  to  a  wardrobe  ;  and,  besides,  the 
day  was  quite  damp.  Nevertheless,  she  went  to 
Sunday  school.  A  letter  written  the  next  day 
to  her  friend  Miss  Wheeler  will  give  an  expla- 
nation of  what  was  then  and  for  a  long  time 
afterwards  a  puzzle  to  Mr.  Williams  :  — 

DEAR  ALICE,  —  Well,  I  am  at  home  again,  and  now 
I  will  answer  your  letter  received  so  long  ago.  I  arrived 
in  Waltham  late  Saturday  evening,  dreadfully  tired. 
Mamma  thought  I  would  not  go  to  church  yesterday, 
but  I  was  so  anxious  to  get  back  to  my  Sunday-school 
class !  Now  I  can  see  your  look,  and  hear  your  excla- 
mation of  surprise.  You  know  me  as  a  very  indifferent 
sort  of  a  Sunday-school  teacher;  but,  Alice,  I  am  not  the 
same  that  I  was.  I  can  never  be  the  same  again.  Mr. 
Williams  seemed  surprised  to  see  me;  said  he  thought 
I  would  have  grown  so  used  to  staying  away  that  I  would 


TRANSFORMED.  299 

find  it  hard  to  break  in  again.  I  did  not  wonder  he  was 
surprised  to  see  me  on  hand,  for  he  came  up  in  the  train 
with  me  on  Saturday  evening.  I  only  saw  him  at  a  dis- 
tance to  bow;  but  of  course  he  knew  I  had  just  got 
home,  and  that  was  why  he  was  surprised  to  see  me  in 
Sunday  school.  I  did  not  tell  him  of  the  new  ideas  I 
have  gained  this  summer,  but  of  one  thing  I  am  certain, 
—  it  was  never  so  easy  to  teach  as  it  was  yesterday. 
Why,  I  actually  enjoyed  it !  The  experiences  of  the  last 
month  have  made  a  new  creature  of  me.  I  can  hardly 
wait  for  evening,  I  am  so  anxious  to  get  to  teachers' 
meeting.  I  suppose  that  Mr.  Williams's  face  will  be 
something  worth  beholding  when  he  sees  me  at  teachers' 
meeting.  I  am  going  to  study  the  lesson  this  afternoon, 
so  as  not  to  be  quite  ignorant  about  it  if  he  should 
ask  me  any  questions  —  if  they  do  ask  questions  :  I  don't 
know  what  they  do  at  our  teachers'  meeting. 

I  knew  my  teaching  did  not  amount  to  much  ;  but  I 
never  realized  what  a  wretched  farce  it  was  until  I  went 
to  that  Sunday-school  Assembly  at  the  lake,  and  saw 
hundreds  of  teachers  who  were  wide  awake  and  inter- 
ested, who  talked  about  Sunday-school  work  from  morn- 
ing till  night,  never  wearying  of  it,  and  always  saying 
something  new.  It  wasn't  three  days  before  I  caught 
the  enthusiasm.  And  now  I  feel  as  if  I  had  lived  ten 
years  since  I  went  away  from  home.  I  have  counted  the 
cost,  and  given  myself  to  the  work.  Hereafter  there 
will  be  fewer  parties  and  other  entertainments  for  me. 


300  TRANSFORMED. 

Monday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday  evenings  are  set  apart. 
It  will  not  be  hard  when  once  the  rule  is  established. 
Two  of  my  pupils  were  absent  yesterday :  I  must  call  on 
those  this  week,  and  as  many  more  as  possible.  Things 
must  be  got  into  working  order  at  once.  I  have  been 
pretending  to  teach,  without  having  any  system  or  object. 
I  thought,  when  I  took  charge  of  the  class,  it  would  be 
easy  enough ;  but  I  did  not  count  the  cost,  and  was  not 
willing  to  make  sacrifices  for  it,  and  so  made  a  wretched 
failure.  I  tell  you,  Alice,  that  I  know  it  has  been  a  mis- 
erable piece  of  work ;  but  now  I  am  determined  to  learn 
how  to  do  it  better.  I  do  not  expect  an  easy  time.  I 
have  taken  it  easy  so  long  that  it  will  be  harder  to  do 
my  work  well  now,  but  I  shall  not  fail  utterly.  I  have 
appropriated  the  promise  "  My  grace  is  sufficient,"  and 
already  I  know  something  of  its  sustaining  power.  I  had 
no  thought  of  going  to  such  a  place  as  a  Sunday-school 
Assembly,  when  I  left  home ;  but  Marian  Kingsley's 
cousin,  with  whom  I  was  staying  a  few  days,  wanted  me 
to  go  with  her  to  the  lake,  just  for  the  bit  of  summering, 
and  so  I  went.  Then,  for  want  of  something  to  do,  I 
dropped  in  at  some  of  the  sessions,  and  grew  interested ; 
and  now  you  have  the  whole  of  it.  No,  you  cannot  know 
it  all ;  I  cannot  tell  you  how  great  a  change  has  come 
over  me  :  you  must  come  and  see  me,  and  let  me  convince 
you  that  it  is  real. 

Perhaps  you  will  say  that  all  this  is  a  passing  enthu- 
siasm born  of  that  meeting.     It  was  indeed  born  at  the 


TRANSFORMED.  301 

meeting,  but  it  is  not  a  passing  feeling.  I  am  going  to 
tell  you,  dear,  something.  There  was  an  evening  when 
I  sat  alone,  down  by  the  lake,  and  looked  my  life  all 
over,  and  saw  just  what  a  failure  my  Christian  life  had 
been ;  and  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  there  with  people  passing 
and  repassing  I  whispered,  "  Dear  Jesus,  if  thou  wilt  for- 
give the  past  unfaithfulness,  I  will  henceforth  give  myself 
to  thy  service."  And,  Alice,  I  sometimes  think  that  was 
my  first  real  prayer  ! 

There  was  more  of  this  letter ;  but  the  rest 
related  to  other  matters,  and  will  not  particu- 
larly interest  us.  What  I  have  copied  will 
explain  the  change  which  so  astonished  Mr. 
Williams. 

There  was  another  person  who  was  quite  as 
much  puzzled  as  the  superintendent,  and  that 
was  Mr.  Frederic  Gray.  I  have  intimated  that 
Fred  Gray  was  pretty  well  satisfied  with  his 
own  Christian  experience  and  with  his  Chris- 
tian life.  At  least,  he  had  been  until  Marian 
Kingsley's  plain  speaking  had  disturbed  his  se- 
renity. Since  that  time,  he  had  given  himself 
up  to  anger  and  bitterness.  He  was  mortified, 
but  not  humbled ;  defeated  and  disappointed, 
but  not  convinced  of  his  errors.  He  grew  more 


302  TRANSFORMED. 

and  more  bitter  and  sarcastic.  The  young  ladies 
declared  that  he  was  growing  unbearable.  The 
only  one  of  their  set  to  whom  he  paid  any 
attention  was  Cora  Butler  :  he  sometimes  re- 
marked to  her,  that  he  was  thankful  that  she 
was  not  a  saint.  But  now  Cora  had  "  sud- 
denly developed  into  one,"  as  he  expressed  it. 
The  discovery  was  not  pleasing  to  the  young 
man. 

A  week  after  her  return,  he  ran  in  on  Mon- 
day morning  to  say  that  there  was  to  be  a 
concert  at  Brighton  that  evening,  and  would 
she  like  to  go  over  ? 

"  I  can't,  Fred,"  she  said :  "  it  is  the  evening 
for  teachers'  meeting."  Then,  seeing  the  look 
of  inquiry  on  his  face,  she  added,  "  I  may  as 
well  explain  now  and  here.  Fred,  I  have 
turned  over  a  new  leaf.  I've  had  a  new  expe- 
rience, and  some  things  are  different  with  me. 
For  one  thing,  I  am  going  to  do  my  Sunday- 
school  work  better,  and  must  have  the  help  of 
the  teachers'  meeting.  I  can  never  be  like 
Grace  and  Evelyn,  or  like  Marian  Kingsley ; 
but  I  mean  to  make  more  of  Cora  Butler." 


TRANSFORMED.  303 

"Now,  why  don't  you  go  on,  and  do  the 
proper  thing  under  the  circumstances,  and  say 
that  I  ought  to  make  more  of  Fred  Gray?"  he 
said  with  a  bitter  laugh. 

"  Because  you  know  that  already.  You  are 
not  as  well  satisfied  with  Fred  Gray  as  I  was 
with  Cora  Butler.  I  may  as  well  say  that  I 
intend  to  refuse  to  make  engagements  for  Mon- 
day, Thursday,  and  Saturday  evenings,  as  a 
rule.  So  you  mustn't  tempt  me  with  concerts." 

"  All  right,"  said  Fred  ;  and  he  went  down 
the  steps  with  a  scornful  smile  on  his  face. 
"  Never  mind,  it  won't  last  long.  The  first 
dancing-party  of  the  season  will  fix  all  that ! " 

But  the  season  was  half  over,  and  Cora  held 
on  her  way,  growing  steadily.  Even  Fred 
could  see  that ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that 
he  became  more  dissatisfied  with  himself,  or 
with  his  religion.  It  was  a  humiliating  con- 
fession which  he  made  to  himself  one  evening 
after  he  had  been  calling  upon  Cora.  Invita- 
tions were  out  for  a  large  party  at  Brighton, 
to  which  a  number  of  Waltham  people  were 
invited,  Fred  and  Cora  among  them.  But 


304  TRANSFORMED. 

Cora  had  announced  her  intention  of  sending 
regrets. 

"  Why,  Cora,  I  supposed  you  would  not  miss 
the  Thornes'  party  for  any  thing  !  "  said  Fred. 

"  That  shows  that  you  do  not  understand  me 
very  well,"  was  her  reply. 

"  So  it  appears.     Will  you  explain  yourself?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  it  is  to  be  on  Thursday 
evening.  And  even  if  it  were  not,  I  do  not 
think  I  should  go  :  I  have  lost  all  interest  in 
dancing-parties." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  given 
up  dancing  ?  "  asked  Fred  in  amazement. 

"  I  suppose  that  when  the  prodigal  went  back 
to  his  father's  house,  he  gave  up  the  husks  !  I 
lived  on  husks  a  long  time,  but  I  don't  know 
why  I  should  go  back  to  them  after  finding  a 
better  way  of  living." 

"  But,  Cora,  society  has  its  claims  upon  you." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  am  trying  to  discriminate 
between  just  and  false  claims.  I  do  not  believe 
that  society  has  any  claim  which  will  compel 
me  to  leave  the  meeting  which  I  should  enjoy, 
and  which  I  may  be  able  to  make  more  en- 


TRANSFORMED.  305 

joy  able  for  others,  for  a  gay  assembly  where 
dancing  and  card-playing  will  be  the  leading 
features,  and  not  to  engage  in  one  or  the  other 
will  be  very  singular,  and  where  my  presence 
will  not  benefit  any  one  in  the  slightest  degree." 

"  Well,  I  never  expected  to  hear  Cora  Butler 
arguing  against  dancing." 

"  I  am  not  arguing.  If  a  man  had  lived  all 
his  life  with  the  shutters  closed  and  the  cur- 
tains drawn,  and  never  had  seen  the  sun,  it 
would  be  useless  for  me  to  argue  that  the 
glorious  sunlight  was  better  than  gas-light ;  but 
let  him  once  come  out  into  the  clear  light  and 
warmth  of  the  broad  day,  and  he  will  be  con- 
vinced. Fred,  I  have  come  into  the  sunshine 
of  Christ's  love  !  " 

Fred  Gray  sat  in  his  office  until  late,  think- 
ing about  Cora  Butler.  She  was  just  as  bright 
and  pretty  and  attractive  as  ever,  just  as  dainty 
in  her  dress  ;  and  her  parlor  was  as  much  as 
ever  a  bower  of  beauty,  and  as  often  filled  with 
groups  of  her  friends.  But  over  all  had  come 
a  change :  there  was  a  different  atmosphere 
hanging  about  her ;  there  were  new  faces 


306  TRANSFORMED. 

among  the  guests,  new  names  on  her  list  of 
acquaintances,  and  new  books  on  her  table ; 
new  subjects  seemed  to  be  naturally  introduced 
into  conversation  ;  topics  which  he  had  never 
heard  mentioned  in  that  house  were  discussed 
as  freely  and  as  easily  as  once  the  latest  novel 
or  the  newest  style  of  bonnet  had  been  com- 
mented upon.  Cora  was  growing  to  be  quite 
at  home  upon  religious  and  church  matters. 
Sometimes  she  would  say,  "I  do  not  know 
what  you  are  talking  about,  but  I  want  to  find 
out."  Then  Mr.  Williams,  with  a  curious 
smiie,  would  explain  some  Sunday-school  mat- 
ter ;  or  perhaps  Mr.  Manning,  making  one  of 
the  group,  would  explain  to  the  earnest  listener 
some  question  of  church  polity  :  and  so  she 
was  getting  her  education  in  these  things 
rather  late,  perhaps,  but  grasping  eagerly  at 
every  item  of  information. 

It  was  thinking  over  these  changes  in  the 
girl  and  her  ways  of  thinking  and  talking,  that 
led  Fred  to  say  to  himself,  — 

"There's  no  denying  it,  that  girl  has  found 
something  in  religion  that  I  have  failed  as  yet 


TRANSFORMED.  307 

to  discover.  With  all  my  boasted  sharpness, 
I  have  not  found  out  the  secret.  Marian 
Kingsley  is  a  fanatic  ;  but  Cora  Butler  hasn't 
a  bit  of  fanaticism  about  her,  though  she  is 
made  over." 

It  was  about  this  time,  or  perhaps  a  little 
later,  that  Fred  Gray  happened  to  be  talking 
with  Mr.  Manning,  and  remarked  that  he  was 
in  search  of  an  office-boy. 

"  I  can  tell  you  where  to  find  one  who  for 
brightness  of  intellect  will  suit  you,  but  per- 
haps he  will  not  be  strong  enough  for  the 
work." 

"The  work  is  not  hard.  The  principal  thing 
is,  to  have  some  one  to  receive  messages  when 
I  am  engaged,  and  to  stay  in  the  office  when  I 
am  away.  Since  Walters  went,  I  have  been 
alone.  But  who  is  your  boy  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that  lame  Barnard  boy. 
He  is  not  strong  enough  for  gardening,  and  he 
is  very  desirous  of  getting  an  education.  If 
he  would  answer  your  purpose,  I  wish  you 
would  try  him." 

And  within    a   few  days    Sam    Barnard  was 


308  TRANSFORMED. 

duly  installed  as  lawyer  Gray's  office-boy.  His 
duties  were  light,  and  he  found  considerable 
time  for  study.  Mr.  Gray  grew  to  like  the 
boy :  he  was  intelligent  and  faithful,  eager  for 
knowledge,  and  of  cheerful  disposition, — quali- 
ties which  won  Fred's  admiration. 

It  had  been  the  understanding,  that  the 
arrangement  should  be  for  a  few  weeks  of  trial, 
after  which,  if  both  were  suited,  a  permanent 
agreement  should  be  entered  into.  There  had 
been  a  slight  misunderstanding.  Sam  under- 
stood by  "  permanent  "  a  year,  or  perhaps  two  ; 
while  the  lawyer  intended  that  the  arrangement 
should  be  for  years,  until,  in  fact,  the  boy 
should  be  twenty-one,  and  would  be  educated 
for  the  bar.  When  he  laid  the  proposition 
before  Sam,  to  the  effect  that  he  would  under- 
take the  expense  of  his  maintenance  and  edu- 
cation for  the  profession  of  the  law,  the  boy 
was  distressed.  He  did  not  want  to  seem  un- 
grateful ;  but  he  felt  certain  that  he  should 
never  become  a  lawyer,  and  was  obliged  to  tell 
his  would-be  patron  so.  Mr.  Gray  was  impa- 
tient, and  thought  him  ungrateful,  and  told 
him  so. 


TRANSFORMED.  309 

"  You  are  too  young  to  know  whether  you 
will  like  it  or  not,  and  you  should  allow  some 
one  older  to  decide,"  he  urged.  "  I  have  been 
studying  your  capabilities,  and  I  am  sure  you 
would  make  a  successful  lawyer.  You  suit  me, 
and  you  say  that  you  do  not  object  to  working 
for  me.  Now,  what  is  the  reason  you  are  un- 
willing to  strike  a  bargain,  subject  of  course 
to  your  parents'  approval  ? " 

Sam  hesitated.  "  Out  with  it !  "  said  Mr. 
Gray ;  and  thus  urged,  indeed  commanded, 
Sam  said,  "  I  am  sure  I  can  never  be  a  lawyer, 
because  two  years  ago,  when  I  first  found  out 
about  Jesus,  and  how  he  loved  us,  I  gave  my 
life  to  him,  and  promised  to  do  whatever  he 
should  set  for  me  to  do.  And  now  I  am  pretty 
certain  that  he  will  want  me  to  preach  ;  and  if 
he  does,  why,  I  must  do  it.  So  I  can't  promise 
to  study  law." 

Mr.  Gray  honestly  thought  the  boy  was  ab- 
surdly foolish  ;  and  he  continued  to  set  forth 
the  advantages  which  he  had  offered,  telling 
him  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  his  pre- 
paring himself  for  the  ministry,  that  he  would 


3 1 0  TRA  NSFORMED. 

be  very  foolish  to  throw  away  this  opportunity 
of  preparing  for  usefulness.  For,  he  assured 
him,  he  could  be  quite  as  useful  as  a  lawyer; 
if  he  desired  to  be  a  benefit  to  humanity,  the 
field  was  certainly  wide  enough  even  in  the 
practice  of  law.  But  Sam  was  firm  :  he  said, 
"  Mr.  Gray,  you  are  very  good,  and  I  thank 
you ;  but  it  would  not  be  right  for  me  to  accept 
your  offer,  for  I  am  almost  sure  I  should  dis- 
appoint you." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  ?  Have  you  any 
prospect  of  being  able  to  educate  yourself  for 
the  ministry  ? " 

"  No  ;  but  if  God  wants  me  he  will  show  the 
way." 

"  See  here,  boy !  where  did  you  get  this 
notion  ?  How  long  have  you  been  thinking 
of  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  when  Miss  Kingsley  first  told  me 
about  Christ,  I  said  I  would  do  any  thing  he 
asked  me  to  do." 

"  I  might  have  known  that  this  was  more  of 
Marian  Kingsley's  fanaticism  cropping  out  !  " 
interrupted  Mr.  Gray  angrily.  He  thought  he 


TRANSFORMED.  3 1 1 

was  angry  with  the  boy ;  but  I  suspect  he  was 
more  angry  with  himself,  though  he  did  not 
know  it.  He  sent  Sam  home,  and  told  him 
that  he  was  an  ungrateful  little  scamp. 

When  Fred  Gray  stopped  to  reflect,  he 
thought  it  was  strange  how  many  people  he 
came  in  contact  with  of  late  whose  religion 
meant  something  more  than  a  name.  But  just 
then  he  was  too  angry  at  his  failure  to  carry 
out  his  plan.  He  felt  that  it  was  really  a  good 
chance  for  the  boy  ;  and  indeed  it  was  a  gener- 
ous offer,  and  he  was  in  no  mood  to  have  his 
generosity  rejected  for  what  he  looked  upon 
as  a  whim.  And  what  made  him  more  bitter 
was  the  fact  that  just  then  he  had  some  trouble 
with  an  officer  in  the  church,  growing  out  of  a 
legal  matter.  This  made  him  more  intolerant 
of  the  mistakes  of  his  fellow-Christians,  and 
for  a  long  time  he  absented  himself  from 
church  services.  He  afterwards  confessed  that 
he  tried  hard  to  give  up  all  religious  belief,  and 
become  an  infidel.  He  looked  upon  the  most 
of  the  Christians  whom  he  knew  as  either 
hypocrites  or  fanatics,  while  he  had  lost  confi- 


3 1 2  TRANSFORMED. 

dence  in  his  own  religious  experience.  But, 
after  all,  he  could  never  get  away  from  the 
consistent  lives  of  the  very  people  whom  he 
denominated  fanatics.  For  months  Fred  Gray 
tried  to  put  down  his  conscience.  He  had 
entirely  lost  his  old  and  habitual  satisfaction 
in  his  religion.  He  was  thoroughly  dissatisfied 
with  himself;  and  he  seemed  to  have  placed 
before  him  a  choice  between  a  life  of  self- 
indulgence,  with  the  renouncing  of  all  claim 
to  the  name  of  Christian,  or  a  new  and  entire 
consecration  of  all  his  powers  to  the  service 
of  Christ.  He  had  tried  long  enough  to  com- 
promise between  Christ  and  the  world.  He 
knew  that  there  could  be  for  him  no  half-way 
surrender  this  time :  it  must  be  complete,  or 
not  at  all.  How  would  it  end  ? 

One  day  when  June  had  come,  he  left  his 
office,  turning  the  key  behind  him,  and  with 
his  hunting-case  and  fishing-rod  took  the  train 
for  the  woods.  Perhaps  it  would  have  sur- 
prised his  friends,  had  they  known  that  neither 
rifle  nor  rod  was  once  brought  into  use  during 
his  absence ;  and  perhaps  they  would  have 


TRANSFORMED.  3 1 3 

been  still  more  surprised,  had  they  known  that 
the  little  black-covered  volume  in  his  pocket 
was  a  Bible.  When  he  returned,  he  gave  no 
account  of  himself,  but  he  drove  immediately 
out  to  the  Barnards'. 

"  Sam,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  make  another 
proposition  to  you.  Will  you  come  and  act  as 
office-boy  for  the  present,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  you  are  to  study  in  whatever  line 
Mr.  Manning  shall  direct,  and  that  you  are  at 
liberty  to  leave  whenever  the  way  opens  to 
better  advantages  ? " 


314  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

"  I  am  as  a  wonder  unto  many." 

I  HOPE  you  are  interested  in  Reg,  and  his 
hopes  and  ambitions  ;  for  then  you  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  his  dream  was  realized.  It  was  a 
June  day,  nearly  fifteen  years  after  our  story 
opened,  that  he  was  busy  trimming  out  the 
withered  roses  from  a  luxuriant  climber  in  the 
yard,  when,  happening  to  glance  towards 
the  house,  he  saw  Nan  standing  upon  the 
piazza.  She  wore  a  light  dress,  and  was  feed- 
ing the  birds  whose  pretty  gilded  cages  swung 
in  the  morning  air.  All  at  once  it  came  back 
to  him,  —  that  dream  of  his  boyhood  ;  and  here 
it  was  in  every  detail  !  the  pretty  house  with 
its  low  windows,  its  Venetian  blinds,  its  broad 
piazza.,  and  its  clambering  vines.  And,  too, 
there  was  the  wide  lawn,  and  the  carriage-drive, 


TRANSFORMED.  315 

broad  and  with  a  graceful  curve,  ending  at  the 
freshly  painted  barn  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 
As  Reg  was  still  gazing  upon  this  reality,  a 
pony-phaeton  came  along  the  road,  turned  in  at 
the  open  gateway,  and  came  to  a  stop  at  the 
end  of  the  piazza.  Nan  left  her  birds,  and  ran 
down  the  steps  to  welcome  her  visitor,  who  de- 
clined her  invitation  to  come  in,  saying,  "  I  was 
out  for  a  drive,  and  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  stop  a  moment ;  but  I  must  be  back  at 
ten  to  drive  mamma  to-  the  train.  Say,  Nan, 
will  you  give  a  little  talk  about  Africa  at  the 
missionary  meeting  next  week?  " 

As  Reg  stood  watching  the  two  young  ladies, 
he  fell  to  dreaming  again  ;  and  in  his  dream 
the  pony  and  phaeton  and  the  fair  young  driver 
belonged  to  the  picture.  And  as  Bertha  Gray 
"bade  Nan  good-by,  and  drove  off,  he  said  softly 
to  himself,  "Some  time  —  perhaps!"  Would 
that  dream,  too,  prove  a  reality  ?  Well,  "  some 
time  —  perhaps." 

We  must  go  back  a  little.  It  was  now  sev- 
eral years  since  the  Grays  came  back  to  Wal- 
tham.  One  springtime  when  people  had  almost 


3 1 6  TRA  NSFORMED. 

given  up  their  return,  the  news  ran  through  the 
village,  that  they  were  coming  back.  The 
homestead  had  stood  silent  and  empty  of  life 
for  more  than  five  years,  while  its  master 
sought  health  in  a  more  favorable  climate.  His 
search  having  been  successful,  he  began  to 
think  of  turning  his  face  homeward.  Waltham 
had  been  the  home  of  his  boyhood  and  of  his 
early  manhood,  and  was  dearer  to  him  than  any 
other  place  on  earth.  Grandmother  Gray, 
seeming  to  renew  her' youth  with  the  hope  of 
seeing,  her  first-born  again,  came  from  her 
daughter's  home  to  superintend  the  opening 
and  airing  of  the  old  house ;  and  once  more  all 
was  life  and  bustle.  Early  in  May  the  family 
came,  —  Bertha  almost  a  young  lady,  bearing 
the  dignity  of  her  fourteen  years  with  a  wo- 
manly grace ;  and  Fred  almost  as  tall  as  his' 
namesake  uncle. 

And  Marian  Kingsley  with  them  ?  Oh,  no  ! 
let  me  tell  you  about  that. 

When  Dr.  Carlton  left  Waltham,  he  had 
buried  himself  in  a  Western  city,  devoting 
himself  untiringly  to  the  duties  of  his  profes- 


TRA  NSFORMED.  3 1 7 

sion.  "  I  never  saw  a  man  so  completely  in 
love  with  his  profession  as  Dr.  Carlton,"  said  a 
Waltham  friend  who  had  ferreted  him  out  in 
his  retirement.  "  He  gives  himself  no  rest, 
day  or  night.  And  even  since  his  uncle  left 
him  that  immense  fortune,  it  makes  not  the 
slightest  difference :  he  works  just  as  hard  as 
ever." 

"  I  never  thought  him  a  hard  worker  here 
at  home,"  said  Frederic  Gray,  with  whom  the 
gentleman  was  talking.  "I  thought  he  took 
life  rather  easy  than  otherwise.  Not  that  he 
was  in  any  way  unfaithful  to  his  patients,  but 
he  never  seemed  to  care  if  business  was  dull." 

"  Oh,  but  he  isn't  the  Dr.  Carlton  that  you 
knew  !  He  is  as  sober  as  a  judge.  He  was 
very  hospitable,  treated  us  royally,  but  seemed 
pre-occupied  and  I  thought  sad.  I  heard  that 
he  was  very  popular,  especially  among  the 
poorer  classes." 

Perhaps  if  Frederic  Gray  had  recalled  a  con- 
versation which  he  had  with  Dr.  Carlton  just 
before  leaving  home  for  that  winter  in  the  South, 
and  had  put  alongside  that  conversation  a  letter 


3 1 8  TRANSFORMED. 

which  he  had  written  to  the  doctor  while  still 
in  Florida,  he  would  have  had  the  explanation 
of  what  was  a  sort  of  puzzle  to  him.  He  said 
to  his  friend  at  that  time,  that  he  meant  to 
marry  Marian  Kingsley ;  and  in  the  letter  he 
said,  "  You  will  like  to  know  how  I  am  pro- 
gressing in  my  love-affair.  I  say,  finely ;  in- 
deed, I  consider  the  question  as  good  as 
settled." 

And  Dr.  Carlton,  foolish  man,  on  the  strength 
of  that,  exiled  himself  from  home  and  friends. 
But  one  day  when  three  years  had  passed,  his 
mail  was  brought  in  as  usual.  He  smiled  as  he 
took  up  an  envelope  with  the  unmistakable  air 
of  wedding-cards  about  it.  "Who  now?"  he 
said  aloud  as  he  tore  open  the  envelope,  more 
as  a  form  than  for  any  interest  he  felt  in  the 
matter.  "'You  are  invited  to  the  marriage  of 
Frederic  Gray  and  Cora  Butler' — not  Marian 
Kingsley  !  "  he  exclaimed.  He  thrust  the  cards 
aside,  ran  hastily  through  the  other  letters,  and, 
after  sitting  in  thought  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
arose  and  went  to  the  office  of  a  brother  physi- 
cian. 


TRANSFORMED.  3 1 9 

'•  I  have  news  to-night  which  makes  it  im- 
portant that  I  should  leave  the  city  at  once,  for 
an  indefinite  length  of  time.  I  want  to  transfer 
my  patients  to  your  care." 

The  necessary  arrangements  were  soon  made, 
and  by  midnight  Dr.  Carlton  was  on  his  way  to 
the  Pacific  Coast.  By  a  somewhat  remarkable 
coincidence,  he  had  only  three  days  before 
learned  that  Mr.  Lewis  Gray  was  still  in  Cali- 
fornia. He  meant  to  go  there  for  a  visit,  and 
if  he  found  Marian  Kingsley  there  he  would 
try  to  win  her :  if  she  were  married  or  dead,  he 
would  return  to  his  work  again. 

He  never  returned  to  his  office  and  work  in 
that  city :  the  transfer  of  his  business  was 
made  permanent,  and  three  months  later  he 
went  abroad  with  his  bride. 

To  Waltham  people  who  inquired  about  the 
couple,  Mrs.  Gray  said, — > 

"  The  doctor  and  Marian  have  been  travelling 
about  in  Europe  ever  since  their  marriage,  and 
they  do  not  even  talk  of  coming  home.  The 
doctor  sent  for  the  half  brother  and  sister,  after 
their  mother's  death  ;  and  they  will  probably 


320  TRANSFORMED. 

stay  in  Germany  and  Paris  until  the  young 
people  finish  their  education.  Marian  wants 
us  to  send  Bertha  out  to  them  next  year,  but  I 
cannot  make  up  my  mind  to  let  her  go  ;  besides, 
Mr.  Gray  has  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  an  Ameri- 
can education  for  Americans." 

"Do  you  notice  many  changes  in  Waltham?" 
asked  Mrs.  Preston. 

"  Yes,  and  no.  The  place  is  the  same,  and 
the  people  are  for  the  most  part  the  same.  I 
miss  a  few  faces,  and  find  a  number  of  un- 
familiar ones  Some  of  the  young  people  have 
grown  up  since  \ve  went  away.  But  there  is  a 
difference  in  the  religious  atmosphere  of  the 
place  ;  at  least,  so  it  seems  to  me.  Perhaps  I 
have  been  away  so  long  that  I  have  forgotten, 
but  I  should  say  there  had  been  a  transforming 
power  at  work." 

"  I  think  there  has  been  a  change.  You 
probably  notice  it  more  than  we  who  have  lived 
through  it." 

"  The  most  astonishing  revelation  I  have  had 
is  the  change  which  has  come  over  Cora  and 
Fred." 


TRANSFORMED.  321 

"  Yes  :  Fred  is  our  Sunday-school  superin- 
tendent since  Mr.  Williams  resigned  on  account 
of  his  failing  health,  and  he  makes  an  admirable 
one.  And  Cora  is  developing  into  a  rare 
Christian." 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gray. 
"  They  were  neither  of  them  tending  that  way 
when  we  left  Waltham  ;  indeed,  I  sometimes 
doubted  if  either  of  them  knew  any  thing  about 
a  real  Christianity." 

"  If  '  by  their  fruits '  they  are  known,  there  is 
no  room  for  doubt  on  that  point  at  present," 
replied  Mrs.  Preston. 

"  Bertha  is  quite  enthusiastic  over  a  girl  in 
the  Sunday-school  class  which  she  has  joined. 
She  pointed  her  out  to  me  yesterday,  —  a  pretty 
girl,  a  little  younger  than  Bertha.  She  says 
her  name  is  Annie  Barnard.  They  must  be 
new-comers :  I  do  not  remember  any  Barnards 
here." 

Mrs.  Preston  laughed.  "  O  Mrs.  Gray  !  you 
are  quite  behind  the  times.  Not  to  know  the 
Karnards !  Perhaps  you  may  recall  the 
Barneys," 


322  TRANSFORMED. 

"The  Barneys!  Indeed  I  can  recall  them. 
But  what  of  them  ?  It  can't  be  "  — 

"  Yes,  it  can  be,  and  is  !  The  Barneys  and 
the  Barnards  are  the  same." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand." 

"None  of  us  did  for  a  long  time.  But  we 
know  now,  whether  we  understand  it  or  not, 
that  the  Barnards  are  among  our  most  efficient 
church  workers  and  among  our  most  respected 
people." 

"  Indeed !  But  I  suppose  you  would  not 
consider  them  exactly  fit  associates  for  your 
children  ? " 

"Whatever  we  may  consider  them,  the  fact 
remains  that  they  do  associate  with  our  best 
people.  The  oldest  boy  is  secretary  of  the 
young  people's  literary  association,  and  a  mem- 
ber of  the  choir ;  and  the  second  son  is  in  your 
brother-in-law's  office," 

"  That  boy  a  Barney !  Why,  he  is  a  bright 
young  fellow.  And  Fred  seems  to  have  as 
good  as  adopted  him  :  he  told  me  yesterday  that 
he  expected  to  preach  through  that  boy." 

"  Yes  :  Fred  tried  hard  to  make  a  lawyer  of 


TRANSFORMED.  323 

him,  but  Sam  thinks  he  must  study  for  the 
ministry  ;  and  Fred  is  going  to  help  him  through 
his  studies." 

"But  he  never  said  a  word  to  us  about  his 
belonging  to  the  Barneys." 

"Well,  I  presume  he  did  not  think  of  it.  No 
one  ever  thinks  of  them  as  '  the  Barneys  '  now- 
adays." 

"  And  you  would  not  interfere  with  Bertha's 
liking  for  the  girl  ?  " 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  would  wait  and  see  the  girl 
for  myself." 

Mrs.  Gray  did  not  interfere  ;  and  a  friendship 
sprang  up  between  the  two  girls,  which  grew 
and  strengthened  until  that  June  morning  when 
Reg  dreamed  of  a  new  tie,  "some  time  —  per- 
haps." 


324  TRANSFORMED. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

"Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid,  which  is 
Jesus  Christ." 

AND  now,  after  a  long  time,  the  Carltons 
were  coming  back  to  Waltham.  The  girl  Mar- 
ian Kingsley  who  went  away  fifteen  years  ago 
expecting  to  return  in  three  months,  and  Dr. 
Carlton  who  went  away  a  month  later  without 
any  intention  of  returning,  —  these  two  were 
coming  back,  for  a  time  at  least ;  and  this  was 
one  of  the  items  of  news  which  Bertha  Gray 
communicated  to  her  friend  Nannie  during 
that  brief  morning  call. 

Of  course  they  came  directly  to  Mr.  Gray's, 
and  Fred  and  Cora  came  out  the  same  evening 
to  see  them. 

"  And  now  you  have  come  home  to  stay  ? " 
said  Fred. 


TRANSFORMED.  325 

"Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Carlton,  "I  do  not 
know  how  long.  We  shall  probably  remain  for 
several  years,  though  we  may  go  abroad  again 
when  Lewis  and  Claire  are  a  few  years  older." 

"  We  hope  you  will  stay  in  Waltham,"  said 
Cora. 

"  Perhaps  we  may.  Of  course  the  doctor  has 
strong  attachments  to  this  place,  but  I  spent  so 
little  time  here  that  I  did  not  form  many  ac- 
quaintances." 

"  And  you  may  as  well  own  that  you  did  not 
like  us  very  well  either,"  said  Cora,  laughing. 

"  No,  I  will  not  own  that,  though  I  will  con- 
fess that  I  was  never  very  homesick  after  I 
went  away  from  Waltham.  I  did  think  the 
atmosphere  a  little  chilly." 

"You  will  find  it  somewhat  changed,  I  think : 
something  thawed  us  out  a  few  years  ago,  and 
we  never  froze  up  again." 

The  doctor  was  asking  questions  right  and 
left. 

"It  is  strange,"  he  said,  "how  little  we  have 
heard  from  Waltham  since  we  went  abroad. 
We  have  never  kept  up  a  very  vigorous  corre- 


326  TRANSFORMED. 

spondence,  and  I  suppose  the  fact  that  our 
friends  here  were  so  long  in  California  made 
them  forget  that  we  would  be  interested  in  af- 
fairs here.  Marian  wrote  about  her  children, 
I  suppose;  and  Mrs.  Gray  replied  with  whole 
sheets  of  motherly  advice." 

"As  if  she  needed  it,  with  a  doctor  for  a  hus- 
band !  That  is  not  fair,"  said  Mrs.  Gray.  "  I 
had  enough  to  tell  of  our  family  affairs,  without 
retailing  the  village  gossip." 

"Well,  tell  me  about  the  people  I  know," 
said  Marian,  seating  herself  by  Cora's  side. 
"They  are  so  few  that  it  will  not  tax  you 
greatly  ;  then  we  will  have  that  done  up,  and 
be  ready  for  other  matters.  Mr.  Manning  is 
still  here  ?  I  think  I  heard  uncle  Lewis  men- 
tion him  a  few  moments  ago." 

"  Yes ;  that  is,  he  is  still  our  pastor,  though 
he  is  now  away  on  a  six-months'  leave  of  ab- 
sence. We  have  a  young  man  supplying  his 
place,  just  from  the  seminary, — quite  a  tal- 
ented young  fellow.  I  think  he  told  Frederic 
that  he  would  call  on  you  to-night." 

"  Tell  me  about  Evelyn  Baker  and  Grace 
Norton." 


TRANSFORMED.  327 

"  Didn't  you  hear  ?  Evelyn  married  a  for- 
eign missionary  several  years  ago,  and  went  out 
to  India ;  and  Grace  finished  her  work  early,  — 
she  lies  over  there,  under  the  trees." 

"  Gone  home,  has  she  ?  and  I  had  looked 
forward  to  seeing  her ! "  After  a  little  pause, 
Marian  asked  suddenly,  — 

"What  became  of  the  Barneys, — the  poor 
family  that  the  doctor  and  I  took  care  of  for 
a  while,  and  that  your  husband  and  I  used  to 
quarrel  over  ? " 

As  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic  Gray  were  setting 
out  for  this  call,  he  remarked, — 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  Marian  has  any  idea 
of  what  has  been  going  on  here  since  she  went 
away.  Sam  says  he  is  going  to  call  at  Lewis's 
to-night.  I  hope  it  will  be  while  we  are  there  : 
I  should  like  to  see  her  face  when  he  is  intro- 
duced." 

Cora  was  quick-witted  ;  and  recalling  this  re- 
mark, she  was  not  thrown  off  her  guard  when 
Marian  asked  about  the  Barneys ;  and  she 
replied,  — 

"  Oh  !   they  live  out  there  on  the  same  place. 


328  TRANSFORMED.     . 

They  have  a  better  house,  and  I  think  they 
raise  vegetables  for  a  living.  I  understand 
they  get  along  very  comfortably.  The  boys 
are  grown  up,  and  they  are  doing  very  well." 

"  And  did  they  never  go  back  to  their  drink- 
ing and  smoking  ways?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  The  father  and  mother 
and  some  of  the  younger  ones  joined  our 
church,  and  I  have  never  heard  any  thing 
against  them." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  it !  I  have  thought  of 
the  family  occasionally  ;  but  I  never  thought  to 
ask  about  them  when  I  was  writing  to  auntie, 
and  I  did  not  know  but  they  had  moved  away. 
That  sort  of  people  are  sometimes  wandering  in 
disposition,  like  ourselves."  And  she  laughed 
gayly,  —  quite  like  Marian  Kingsley,  so  Cora 
said 

Presently  the  door-bell  rang;  and  as  a  mo- 
ment later  a  peculiar  sound  was  heard  in  the 
hall,  Cora  said,  — 

"That  is  the  young  minister:  he  is  lame,  and 
walks  with  a  crutch." 

"  Rev.  Mr.  Barnard  "  entered,  and  was  intro- 
duced to  the  strangers. 


TRANSFORMED.  329 

"  Did  you  walk  ?  "  asked  Frederic  Gray. 

"  Yes.  I  expected  my  brother  to  drive  down 
for  me ;  but  he  was  late,  and  so  I  walked  out, 
expecting  to  meet  him.  Probably  he  was  de- 
tained, but  he  may  call  later." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  a  busy  season  with  him," 
remarked  Mr.  Gray. 

"Yes;  and  you  know,  perhaps,  that  he  is  to 
deliver  an  address  at  the  Horticultural  Associ- 
ation next  week,  and  of  course  that  takes  his 
leisure  time." 

"  Oh,  well !  Reg  is  perfectly  at  home  in  horti- 
culture," said  Mr.  Gray.  "  If  there  is  any  one 
subject  that  he  understands  thoroughly,  it  is 
that,  though  he  is  pretty  well  posted  on  other 
matters." 

Just  then  Bertha  Gray  came  in,  dressed  for 
the  street  ;  and  going  over  to  Marian  she  said, 
"  I  am  going  down  to  choir-rehearsal :  I  am 
sorry  I  am  obliged  to  go  out  to-night."  Then 
turning  to  the  young  minister  she  asked,  "Do 
you  think  Nannie  will  be  down  to  rehearsal  ?" 

"  I  expected  her  with  Reg,  but  they  have  not 
arrived  as  yet." 


330  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Bertha  thinks  she  cannot  sing  without 
Nannie,"  said  Mrs.  Gray. 

"  When  do  you  expect  Stella  ? "  asked  Cora. 

"The  last  of  next  week,"  was  the  reply. 

Frederic  was  watching  Marion  ;  but  her  face 
showed  no  suspicion  of  any  thing  strange,  and 
she  had  none.  True,  these  names  were  famil- 
iar ;  yet  at  that  moment  she  had  forgotten  the 
names  of  the  "  Barney  "  children. 

But  a  moment  later  a  young  man  entered. 
He  greeted  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray  courteously,  but 
walked  directly  across  the  long  room,  and  stood 
before  Marian  as  if  waiting  recognition. 

"  Mrs.  Carlton,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was 
eager  and  excited,  "  you  have  not  entirely  for- 
gotten '  Reg  '  ?  " 

Then  Cora,  who  still  sat  beside  Marian, 
said,  — 

"  Mrs.  Carlton,  allow  me  to  introduce  my 
friend  Mr.  Reginald  Barnard." 

Then  in  an  instant  the  truth  flashed  upon 
Marian,  —  at  least,  a  part  of  the  truth.  She 
did  not  as  yet  comprehend  how  it  was  that 
these  old  acquaintances  of  hers  were  called 


TRA  NSFORMED.  3  3 1 

"  Barnard,"  nor  did  she  realize  even  then  the 
extent  of  the  transformation.  It  was  not  until 
she  had  been  out  to  the  Barnards',  and  looked 
upon  their  pleasant,  happy  home  life  in  what 
she  declared  was  the  prettiest  house  in  the 
vicinity  of  Waltham  ;  not  until  she  had  shaken 
hands  and  talked,  with  the  father  and  mother, 
and  noted  the  change  in  them,  in  voice  and 
manner,  in  dress  and  speech  ;  not  until  she  sat 
in  the  village  church,  and  heard  Sam  preach  ; 
not  until  she  talked  with  Reg  of  his  business, 
and  of  his  library,  and  of  his  attempts  at  giving 
his  knowledge  to  others,  — that  she  realized  the 
work  that  had  been  done  in  these  fifteen  years. 

When  Marian  was  talking  with  Reg  of  his 
books,  Mrs.  Barnard  brought  out  the  Bible 
which  Marian  had  left  with  them  when  she 
went  away.  It  did  not  need  that  she  should 
say,  "  There's  never  been  a  day  since  you  went 
away,  that  Thomas  and  I  have  not  read  one 
or  more  chapters  in  this  Book."  Its  well-worn 
appearance  told  the  story  ;  and,  too,  their  lives 
and  their  manner  of  speech  told  it. 

"I   often   tell    Reir  that   this  book  is  worth 


332  TRANSFORMED. 

more  than  all  other  books  in  the  world,"  said 
the  mother.  Then,  as  Reg  was  called  away  for 
a  moment,  Mrs.  Barnard  said,  — 

"O  Mrs.  Carl  ton  !  there's  just  one  shadow 
upon  our  lives  :  Reg  is  the  only  one  who  is  left 
out,  and  that  is  because  he  will  not  come.  I 
cannot  understand  it :  the  rest  of  us  all  came 
so  easily  into  the  kingdom !  Reg  has  been 
prospered,  and  the  sad  thing  about  it  is  that  he 
thinks  he  has  done  it  all  himself ! " 

Marian  found  an  opportunity  to  have  a  pri- 
vate talk  with  Reg. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  do  not  call 
yourself  a  Christian,"  she  said.  "  Why  are  you 
not  one?" 

"  I  suppose,  simply  because  I  have  never  set 
out  to  be  one." 

"  But  why  not  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  as  I  can  tell  you.  One  rea- 
son is,  that  I  have  never  had  time.  My  life  has 
been  a  very  busy  one  :  with  work  and  study, 
my  time  is  all  taken  up.  I  always  go  to 
church,  but  there  my  interest  ends." 

"  May  I  ask  why  you  even  go  to  church  ? " 


TRANSFORMED.  333 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  give  a  reason  :  I 
suppose,  partly  because  I  formed  the  habit  with 
the  rest  of  the  family,  and  partly  because  it  is 
respectable  to  attend  church.  It  throws  one 
into  good  society." 

"  Do  you  not  consider  the  matter  of  personal 
religion  important  ?  "  asked  Marian. 

"Why,  yes,  and  no  :  it  does  not  seem  impor- 
tant to  me.  Some  people  appear  to  find  it  a 
help  ;  but  I  have  succeeded  in  carrying  out  my 
plans,  and  have  reached  the  point  at  which  I 
aimed.  My  first  ambition,  though  I -did  not 
know  it  was  an  ambition,  was  to  have  a  home 
like  this,  and  to  be  able  to  live  like  other  peo- 
ple. I  have  succeeded  without  being  a  Chris- 
tian, as  you  define  the  word,  quite  as  well  as 
many  who  are." 

"  Reg,  you  certainly  believe  in  God." 

"  Yes,  in  a  Creator." 

"  And  you  believe  in  the  Bible  as  a  revela- 
tion of  his  will  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  do :  I  have  not  adopted 
infidel  views.  I  may  not  interpret  every  thing 
in  the  Bible  just  as  you  would,  but  I  believe  in 
it  as  a  whole." 


334  TRANSFORMED. 

"  Then,  of  course,  you  believe  that  the  Creator, 
as  you  choose  to  call  him,  has  cognizance  of 
our  movements,  and  is  able  to  build  up  or  de- 
stroy what  he  has  created." 

"  Able,  I  suppose ;  but  I  imagine  that  after 
he  has  made  things,  and  set  them  going,  he 
does  not  trouble  himself  much  about  such  in- 
significant matters  as  we  and  our  affairs." 

"  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  that  if  he  took  pains 
to  create  us,  he  would  take  some  sort  of  inter- 
est in  his  own  work." 

"  I  do  not  mean  just  that ;  but  I  think  he  has 
left  us  to  do  our  work,  and  all  we  have  to  think 
of  is  to  see  that  we  do  it  as  well  as  we  know 
how.  I  do  not  see  how  I  could  have  done  any 
better  work  by  being  a  professor  of  religion. 
I  am  willing  to  compare  my  work  with  that  of 
almost  any  Christian  I  know ;  and  I  think  that 
if  I  do  it  as  well  as  I  can,  the  Lord  will  accept 
it." 

"  What  reason  have  you  for  thinking  so  ? " 

"Why  should  I  doubt  it?" 

"  Because  he'  has  distinctly  told  you  that 
he  will  not  accept  your  work,  —  that  unless 


TRANSFORMED.  335 

you  render  a  perfect  service  it  all  goes  for 
naught." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  a  little  hard  on  a  fellow, 
when  he  has  honestly  tried  to  do  his  duty,  to 
blame  him  for  some  slight  imperfections  ? " 

"That  depends.  If  there  was  a  chance  to 
make  his  work  perfect,  and  knowing  this  he 
neglected  to  employ  the  means,  —  deliberately 
leaving  out  that  which  would  cover  all  imper- 
fections, straighten  out  all  the  crooked  lines, 
wash  away  all  the  soil,  and  make  the  work 
clean  and  pure  and  perfect  in  the  eye  of  the 
Master,  then  would  he  not  deserve  blame  ?  I 
tell  you,  Reg,  the  most  unworthy  Christian,  the 
weakest  and  most  fallible  among  us,  has  that 
which  you  have  not  if  you  are  not  a  Christian ; 
that  through  which  justification  comes,  —  the 
righteousness  of  Christ.  Until  we  put  on 
Christ,  our  work  goes  for  nothing." 

At  the  close  of  a  long  conversation  Reg 
said,  — 

"Mrs.  Carlton,  if  only  out  of  consideration 
for  you,  to  gratify  you  I  would  like  to  be  inter- 
ested in  these  matters;  but  you  would  not  wish 


336  TRANSFORMED. 

me  to  express  interest  where  I  felt  only  indif- 
ference ?  I  respect  religion  and  religious  peo- 
ple, and  I  would  not  hinder  in  any  way  any 
one  who  is  inclined  to  look  at  things  differ- 
ently." 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  you  are  making  a 
mistake  there.  Let  me  tell  you  something 
that  I  know.  Last  sabbath  I  taught  a  class  in 
the  Kitson  school,  and  I  asked  one  of  the 
boys  why  he  was  not  a  Christian:  he  said,  'All 
the  good  folks  are  not  among  the  Christians. 
There's  Mr.  Reg  Barnard,  he's  an  awful  good 
man,  and  he  don't  belong  to  the  church ;  and 
he  don't  think  there's  much  good  in  praying 
neither.'  Now,  my  friend,  can  you  say  that 
you  are  not  hindering  ?  I  want  to  say  a  word 
about  your  success.  You  have  done  wonders, 
I  admit  ;  but  to  what  is  your  success  due  ? 
What  makes  you  to  differ  from  others  ?  What 
was  the  turning-point  in  the  history  of  your 
family?  Was  it  not  in  the  hour  when  your 
father  and  mother  took  Christ  as  their  Saviour, 
the  Bible  as  their  guide,  and  the  Holy  Spirit 
as  their  Illuminator?  What  is  the  transform- 


337 

ing  power  that  has  changed  every  thing  about 
you  ?  Do  you  not  owe  every  thing  to  the  reli- 
gion which  you  reject  ?  Reg,  I  believe  that 
the  Lord  will  yet  open  your  eyes  to  the  truth, 
but  I  fear  that  the  revelation  will  come  through 
pain  and  sorrow. 

"  The  Lord  has  been  very  gracious  to  you," 
she  added.  "  It  seems  to  me,  that  he  has  been 
seeking  to  win  you  to  his  service  through  his 
smiles  :  he  has  favored  your  plans,  and  ad- 
vanced your  interests.  And  yet  you  refuse  to 
give  him  the  honor.  He  may  yet  be  forced 
to  show  his  power  in  bringing  you  low,  unless 
you  humble  yourself  before  him.  You  have 
no  refuge  for  a  day  of  trouble,  Reg." 

Reg  smiled  proudly  as  he  replied,  "  It  seems 
to  me,  Mrs.  Carlton,  that  a  man  ought  to  have 
strength  of  character  enough  to  bear  the  chan- 
ging fortunes  of  life  with  equanimity.  I  think 
I  have  fortitude  for  whatever  may  come." 

"I  fear  you  will  find  your  strength  weak- 
ness." 

In  all  the  twenty-seven  years  of  his  life, 
Reginald  Barnard  had  not  known  a  day's  ill- 


338  TRANSFORMED. 

ness.  Of  physical  pain  and  suffering,  he  did 
not  know  the  meaning.  The  memory  of  those 
early  times  of  hunger  and  cold  and  privation 
had  almost  faded  out  of  his  memory.  He  had 
grown  up  strong  physically,  as  he  was  men- 
tal^ and  morally.  The  development  of  his 
spiritual  nature,  God-ward,  only  had  been 
stunted  and  dwarfed.  He  was  a  handsome 
young  fellow,  of  much  manliness  in  form  and 
feature  and  manner.  He  had  a  roundish  face 
with  little  color,  full  gray  eyes,  broad  forehead, 
and  shapely  chin  ;  his  hair,  which  in  childhood 
had  reminded  one  of  nothing  so  much  as  a 
hank  of  tow,  had  gradually  grown  darker,  until 
now  it,  as  well  as  the  slightly  curling  mous- 
tache, was  of  a  handsome  shade  of  brown.  He 
was  always  neat  in  his  dress  and  personal  hab- 
its. Of  late  he  had  been  able  to  dress  well, 
and  was  reckoned  as  one  of  Waltham's  finest- 
looking  young  men. 

He  had  said  to  Mrs.  Carlton,  that  he  thought 
he  had  fortitude  to  meet  the  ills  of  life ;  and 
he  had  not  spoken  without  consideration.  He 
had  seen  men  sinking  under  misfortune,  and 


TRANSFORMED.  339 

had  looked  with  something  like  contempt  upon 
their  failure  to  rise  above  their  troubles.  He 
had  said  within  himself,  "If  reverses  come,  it 
would  be  only  to  begin  over  again.  Other  men 
have  had  disappointments  :  I  may  not  be  ex- 
empt, but  the  best  way  is  to  take  philosophi- 
cally whatever  comes." 

As  often  happens,  the  troubles  for  which  we 
plan  and  provide  are  not  those  which  befall  us ; 
and  Reg  had  never  planned  for  the  trial  which 
was  to  test  his  philosophy. 

It  was  a  warm  July  afternoon.  He  had  gone 
out  to  inspect  his  young  plum  and  apricot  trees, 
and  had  taken  his  scythe  to  cut  down  some 
weeds  which  had  sprung  up  in  the  orchard. 
He  was  not  a  clumsy  workman,  neither  was  he 
careless  :  on  the  contrary,  he  was  both  skilful 
and  cautious ;  indeed,  it  was  often  remarked  by 
the  neighbors,  "  Nothing  ever  happens  to  Reg 
Barnard;  his  horses  never  run  away,  his  wag- 
ons never  break  down  on  the  road,  his  Jersey 
cow  never  gets  loose,  and  he  never  fails  to  have 
a  good  crop  of  whatever  he  puts  in."  And 
this  was  nearly  true.  Reg  was  careful,  and 


340  TRANSFORMED. 

faithful-to  his  own  interests;  not  selfishly,  for 
he  was  very  obliging  to  his  neighbors,  but  he 
was  also  very  systematic  in  his  work  in  all  its 
details,  the  last  person  to  whom  an  accident 
would  be  likely  to  happen.  And  how  it  did 
happen,  no  one  could  ever  tell.  He  did  not 
know  then  or  ever.  Whether  he  slipped  and 
fell  upon  his  scythe,  or  whether  the  fall  was 
from  being  overcome  by  the  heat,  he  could  not 
think;  but  one  thing  they  all  knew,  —  that 
in  that  hour  his  life-blood  had  nearly  ebbed 
away.  Nan  found  him  helpless  and  fainting, 
and  tore  her  dainty  white  apron  into  strips  for 
a  bandage  with  which  she  bound  the  wound  in 
a  skilful  manner  to  stay  the  flow  of  blood. 
Tnen  they  carried  him  to  the  house,  and  laid 
him  upon  his  bed.  It  was  an  ugly  wound,  and 
with  it  began  a  battle  for  life.  For  weeks 
fever  raged  in  his  veins,  and  delirium  often 
tortured  the  weakened  brain  with  wild  imagin- 
ings. Reg  Barnard  knew  from  that  time  what 
pain  meant ;  he  knew  the  torment  of  long 
weary  days  and  nights  of  languishing ;  he 
knew  the  agony  of  a  soul  that  stands  face  to 


TRANSFORMED.  341 

face  with  death,  and  sees  the  clutching  hand 
stretched  out  to  grasp  the  victim,  and  feels  no 
overshadowing  PRESENCE.  He  was  close  to 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  and  could 
not  say  "Thou  art  with  me."  His  fortitude, 
his  philosophy,  had  failed  him,  and  lie  had  no 
other  refuge. 

It  was  October  when  he  again  began  to  go 
about,  and  weeks  later  before  he  was  his  old 
self.  Ah,  he  was  never  quite  as  before ! 
Physically  he  had  quite  recovered,  but  some- 
thing was  missed :  was  it  a  little  of  the  old 
pride  and  haughtiness  of  carriage  ? 

He  said  to  Mrs.  Carlton  one  day, — 

"  You  were  right  :  my  strength  proved  to  be 
weakness." 

"  And  now  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Now  I  do  'all  things  through  Christ  which 
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